The HomeGuard
by Thug-4-Less
Summary: The episodic adventures of legendary soldiers in the HomeGuard of Surdana.
1. Time For Killin'

            Ramn crouched at the beginning of a winding hall that supposedly led to where The Dragon-Rider had destroyed a terrible wraith that had been praying on the townspeople. The tall, dark-skinned man found that hard to believe. Wartoks and grull were enough fodder for nightmares without people reviving ancient superstitions.

            Ramn had been born to a large family in a small river valley nearly twenty years ago. His father had been killed only two months ago in a raid by a wandering clan of wartoks that had been displaced by The Dragon-Rider's destruction of an entire army. Ramn, the oldest of six, had decided to heed traveler's tales of Surdana, what everyone said was the last bastion of hope for humanity. The travelers had said that a new age was dawning and that humanity would once again reign supreme across the lands. Ramn had not given much credence to those vainglorious, at least to him, boasts. The tales of the vast might of the Surdanan army had swayed him. Ramn had wanted his mother to live in a place where she would never have to worry about her sons and daughters being slaughtered by all manner of horrible monsters. So Ramn had convinced his mother to pack up the family's meager belongings and make the long, dangerous trek to Surdana.

            Ramn had been shocked to discover that he and his family were a small part of a mass flood of humans seeking safety in Surdana. He had been even more shocked to hear the rumors of a dragon-rider among the caravan he and his family had joined. The caravan had passed through a checkpoint manned by a squad of soldiers and the young farmer had been impressed by their aura of power and authority. The local area had seemed free of grull, wartoks, and even scavenger-beasts. It had seemed to be all that the travelers had said. His family had been given nice farmland in the surrounding countryside for the price of a very small yearly tithe to Lady Myschala. It had not taken Ramn long to find out the sad truth about the "great" army of Surdana.

            It was a wonderful dream.

            Apparently The Dragon-Rider had single-handedly turned the tide for the last human enclave in the region. Rumors had it that the army had been on the verge of defeat before The Dragon-Rider had appeared. Ramn had no trouble believing it after carefully observing the soldiers in and around the town proper. Their numbers were much smaller than he had believed. The soldiers all looked imposing in their plate-and-mail armor but they also looked as though they got too little sleep. Surdana's army was undermanned and spread much too thinly.

            Then word had spread of a group of bandits terrorizing the countryside. The Dragon-Rider was rumored to be away and the army had its hands full with the influx of refugees from the wastelands bordering Surdana. Official word had come down from the Palace that General Dehrimon was seeking volunteers for a special company of militia that would help protect the "environs of Surdana". The first assignment of this special company would be to hunt down and eliminate the bandits plaguing the countryside. Ramn had not been at all interested until a neighboring farm had been hit… and everyone killed in barbaric fashion.

            So Ramn had volunteers, despite the tearful protests of his mother, and now he found himself in the bowels of the earth with who knew how many fiends. Ramn had always been strong, fast, and good with his hands but he had no idea if he had what it took to be a warrior even though he had passed the trials for the volunteers easily. The palace armory was literally overflowing with superior quality blades and armor. Rumors said that this was also the work of The Dragon-Rider. So Ramn had suddenly found himself the proud owner of glistening chainmail armor, a steel scimitar, and an iron round shield.

            The trappings of a hero did little for his courage though.

            Ramn looked across the tiny hall at his "partner" and wondered why fate seemed to enjoy laughing at him. He could have gotten the big ox with a steel battleaxe named Bruly or the whipcord slim mercenary with his twin mithril shortswords. He had gotten a woman instead. A scrawny, underfed looking woman at that. Crayla barely came up to Ramn's chest. She had eyes that were an odd blue-green instead of Ramn's more normal dark brown. Her hair was a scraggly, strawberry blonde mess that she had cut as short as a boy's. Ramn's head was completely bald thanks to his upbringing in warmer climes. She was probably the palest person Ramn had even seen and he was probably the darkest person _she_ had ever seen. Ramn was not overflowing with confidence but Crayla looked downright terrified.

            "What'd'ya think is going on, eh?" Craya whispered, and unfortunately Ramn had already let her know he had excellent hearing.

            "I have no idea," he whispered in reply.

            "Why's this place so empty, Ramn?"

            "I don't know?"

            "Why're there so many empty braziers if the place is so warm?"

            "I don't know," Ramn growled through gritted teeth.

            The damn woman was setting his nerves on edge.

            "Why-?"

            Ramn held up a hand and hissed,"Listen!"

            Crayla actually stopped her irritating chatter for a moment and looked as though she were paying attention to her surroundings. Ramn was surprised to see her hand edging towards the leather wrapped hilt of the longsword sheathed across her back. The volunteer found his own hand straying to the hilt of the scimitar at his waist and made sure his iron shield was secure on his forearm. The air had been still and silent a moment ago. Only a whisper of wind had alerted Ramn that something had changed and only a childhood spent playing in caves had given him the experience to guess what it meant. A passage had been unblocked or opened somewhere ahead of them. Ramn and Crayla instinctively moved closer as they waited for something to happen.

            "AHHHHH-!"

            The scream came echoing down the tunnel, chilling them to the bone, only to be drowned out by the sounds of steel meeting steel and flesh. It was quickly followed by the sounds of armored feet running and a dozen members of the militia came running towards them. The mercenary was in the lead, both bloody shortswords in his hands, with blood streaming down his face. Bruly was right behind the mercenary but the big man was holding a hand to his side and grimacing with every step.

            "Retreat! Retreat!" lieutenant Miles' voice carried down the corridor.

            "What happened?!" Ramn yelled as he stepped out of the way of the panicked flight of his fellow miltiamen.

            The mercenary didn't even pause as he passed Ramn and Crayla, but Bruly paused beside Ramn. The big man let his axehead fall to the floor as he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. 

            "It… was… a trap… grull… hundreds of the little… we have to go!"

            Then Bruly pushed himself away from the wall and continued his run. Crayla was looking back down the darkened tunnel and biting her lip.

            Ramn grabbed her arm and shouted," Let's go!"

            The woman ran back down the corridor to the bridge they had crossed that led to the passageway. Ramn was right behind her and nearly collided with the lieutenant where the passageway branched off into two directions. The lieutenant was encased in mithril plate armor and was armed with a mithril shield and an enchanted longsword covered in flame. The lieutenant's eyes were slightly widened with fear of whatever they were running from.

            "Don't stop," Miles said breathlessly, and ran through the entrance to the passageway.

            Ramn ran, faster than he would have thought possible in chainmail, and tried not to listen to the leathery scuffle of feet on the stone floor behind him. It _did_ sound like there were hundreds of the little bastards chasing them. Crayla and Ramn somehow ended up behind everyone else. Crayla looked as though she would pass out at any moment. It probably had not been a good idea for her to wear half-plate armor. But who would have thought there were so many grulls under Surdana proper? The wounded company fled passed the ruins, crossed the bridge, and blew through the doorway into another room. They made a right where they had come from a braced cave and were stopped short.

            Someone had lowered the gate.

            There was a pair of wartoks barring their way.

            "Oh great," Ramn heard Crayla mumble.

            A slim figure, dwarfed by the bulk of the wartoks, stepped from behind the huge beasts. It stepped into the dim brazier light and removed the hood covering features. It looked like a huge reptile with glowing red eyes.

            "It's a damn trog!" someone shouted in disbelief.

            The trog, whatever those were, held up a scaly hand and hissed at them. Ramn turned just as the grull reached them. The stupid little bastards stood there looking smugly truiumphant. There couldn't have been more than three dozen. The militia had numbered two dozen when they had entered the caverns. Now they were little more than a dozen and half of those were injured. Ramn drew his scimitar and held it in the guard position he had been hastily taught a few days ago. Suddenly a weeks worth of sword training seemed far too little. The grull were armed with a variety of weapons; spiked clubs, iron maces, and even a shortsword or two. At least they weren't armored like the damn wartoks were. Ramn hoped the mercenary and the lieutenant, the only ones in their group with weapons that could cut through steel like warm butter, were up to dealing with them.

            A crack of lightning, followed closely by a strangled cry and the smell of burned flesh, caused Ramn to jump involuntarily. A body, whipcord slim, flew through the air and landed in front of the grull with a sickening crunch. Twin mithril swords glittered beautifully in the corpses hands. The lieutenant gave a valiant battlecry that was closely followed by Bruly's. Ramn held his ground though and watched with a sinking heart as the masses of grull charged. The grull were shorter than Crayla even but very strong. Ramn held his ground, his body trembling uncontrollably the closer they got, and he didn't think he was going to be able to move when they came to kill him.

            _I'm sorry, mother,_ he thought as the first grull came within reach.

            The grull hefted its iron mace and whipped it towards Ramn's knee. A piercing cry cut through the air as Crayla parried the mace and slashed the grull across the face. Blood sprayed into the faces of the three grull behind the mace-wielding one. Crayla went forward to meet them with wild slashes that lacked true skill but the dimunitive woman more than made up for that with unbridled enthusiasm. Ramn stood there in shock as he watched the woman carve her way through their enemy. She moved as though she would live forever.

            A grull got around Crayla and leaped into the air in order to bring its mace down on her skull. Ramn swung his scimitar in a blindingly fast arc that caught the grull in mid-air. The grull was flung to the side with a guttural shriek that closely resembled a pig's squeal. Once Ramn's scimitar began to move it was as if could not stop. His sword arm was in constant motion, hacking into the bodies of whatever beast got too close, while his shield kept him from being brained on more than 

            Thus he found himself fighting back-to-back with Crayla against a seeming inexhaustible supply of grull.

            Ramn kicked away a mace and brought his scimitar downward across the grull's throat. The beast rolled away squealing while it held a hand to try to halt the flow of its spurting lifeblood. A blow clanged off of Ret's shield and, in a moment of blind panic, he bashed it full in the face with his shield. Blood gushed from the little bastard's nose and it lashed out wildly as it stumbled away. The scimitar lashed out again and spun another grull off its feet. Ramn twirled his scimitar in his hand, a trick he had learned during his brief training, and brought it down between the ears of a grull that looked as though it were foaming from the mouth. Crayla gave a shout and Ramn instinctively ducked as a grull came flying across the cavern.

            _How the hell did she do_ that_?_

            Ramn turned to thank the woman just in time to slice a grull from hip to shoulder as it snuck up behind her. The grull tried to run away but its severed spine simply wouldn't let it. Moving a state of numb disbelief, Ramn kicked the writhing grull away, and stepped to Crayla's side.

            "Ramn!"

            The warning came too late as horrible pain flared in Ramn's thigh. He looked down to see a grull's head being hacked off by Crayla, the little woman was inhumanly strong, and then his leg gave out. Ramn fell heavily to the ground and instinctively knew that he was dead if he didn't stand. Using his sword as a crutch, Ramn struggled to his feet to help Crayla in her increasingly frantic defense. His partner had seemed to be driven insane sometime during the battle. Crayla attacked with a feverish intensity that obviously scared the grull but the injured Ramn was just too irresistible a target for them.

            Ramn glanced around them and saw that the rest of the company was in no better condition. The lieutenant had killed one of the wartoks but was having trouble with the last and the trog-mage. Bruly and another man wielding a steel greatsword were trying to aide them but their weapons were proving ineffective against the wartok's armor.

            Ramn howled in agony as a spiked club was driven into nearly the exact spot of his previous injury. Cursing his lapse of concentration, Ramn slashed the grull across the face. It howled quite shrilly as it stumbled away clutching at its ruined face. Ramn tried to remove the club but only succeeded in falling on his ass. Crayla screamed as an iron mace was bashed against her vulnerable midriff. The fury-filled woman crumpled to the ground beside Ramn and he knew at that moment he was going to die.

            A thunderous explosion blew the portcullis from its hinges and blew apart a number of grull as well.

            _Where are they all coming from?_ Ramn thought hazily.

            A figure stepped through the settling debris and a light-hearted, feminine voice spoke into the din of battle,"It's a party, is it?"

            Ramn watched as the figure streaked through the shattered doorway and the beasts began falling apart around them. A grull turned to run and had its head split down the middle in mid-stride. A huge fireball seemed to materialize from a blur of motion and hit the last wartok in the chest. The beast howled in delirious agony, incredibly still alive, and began lashing wildly in all directions. The grull around Ramn and Crayla hesitated with nervousness but neither of the two were capable of taking advantage.

            A lightning bolt erupted from a shadowy blur a short distance away from the two. It arched through several grull before disappearing. Ramn watched in disbelief as a woman appeared with a burst of green light that curled around her like vapor. She was tall for a woman with dazzling red hair and green eyes. The woman was wearing red-purplish scaled armor with odd spikes coming out of the shoulders. A glittering shield was held in one hand while the other wielded a jeweled longsword wreathed in eldritch energy. The woman gave a peculiar smirk before she charged at the grull with a predatory grin.

            The grull surrounded Ramn and Crayla attacked the woman with grunting battle-cries. Ramn watched, mouth agape, as the warrior swept two grull to the side with a single swipe of her longsword as though they weighed no more than feathers. She turned in a graceful spin that ended with a grull's head rolling in the dirt. Low grunts of exertion escaped the swordswomen as she carved a path to Ramn and Crayla. The warrior smashed an airborne grull aside with her shield, again with effortless strength, and continued her march. She blocked a bone-shattering blow and the mace-head separated from its shaft. The offending grull's mace-wielding arm was soon flopping on the ground spastically.

            Finally the woman reached their side through a gauntlet of blood. The swordmaster held up a glowing hand and traced an arcane symbol in the air. She punched her fist in Ramn's direction and a wave of warmth passed over him. His leg, where his worst injuries were, burned as though someone had thrust a hot poker into his flesh. Ramn clenched his teeth against the pain and watched in wonderment as his wounds magically knit themselves. He stood to find that Crayla was rising as well.

            "Are you two going to stare or fight?" the mysterious woman asked before turning back and charging at the regrouping grull.

            The swordmaster drew another symbol in the air and again became a blur of motion. Ramn went forward, Crayla at his side, and began to enthusiastically hack into the thinning ranks of the grull. Hot, steaming blood seemed to cover every inch of Ramn. His breath came in ragged pants that never seemed to fill his lungs. Screams filled his ears, the dying screams of grull and men, but mostly the battlecry of Crayla. His partner stayed by his time the entire time and attacked the grull with wild abandon. Ramn hopped backwards to avoid a mace-head that was too close to his knee. Almost without conscious thought he carved a niche into the grull's face.

            Then the sounds of fighting died to be replaced by the piteous moans of dying grull.

            Ramn looked around him and saw the sad remnants of the volunteer company. The lieutenant was still alive despite his mithril armor being burned and dented. Somehow Bruly had managed to survive as well. There were only three other survivors, none that Ramn knew at all, and they looked as though they could scarcely believe they had lived. Ramn knew exactly how that felt. The cavern floor was littered with the dead and dying. Huge pools of blood, usually with a body part in their midst, were everywhere.

            Lieutenant Miles raised his flaming longsword into the air and shouted," Victory!"

            "A little premature," the warrior said, pointing with her longsword.

            Ramn turned and watched in horror as dozens of giant spiders emerged from the darkened corners of the ceiling.

            "Time for killin'," Crayla whispered before charging at the spiders with a hoarse shout.

            Ramn shook his head in disbelief as his legs carried her to his side.


	2. On The Road

            The day was a cloudy one and only the greater moon was easily discernible in the sky. Down a lonely road leading to one of Surdana's many burgeoning rural communities, a pair walked, burdened by the heavily laden cart the man pulled. After crossing one of the many newly built bridges, a man stepped from behind an outcropping of rock directly into their path. The tall, dark-skinned farmer stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow. His wife, a small woman with deathly pale skin, stepped timidly behind her husband's back. The stranger nodded slightly with a sardonic smile and began to speak.

            "If you would be so kind as to unburden yourselves with them good there it would save me friends and I a lot of work," the man's smile widened to reveal a mouth full of rotten teeth.

            The farmer looked behind the cart and saw that a pair of men had appeared from whatever holes they had hidden. The men wielded heavy iron cudgels in their hands and long knives graced their belts. White teeth flared in the dark man's face as he turned with a smile.

            "I think you men have a pressing engagement," the farmer spoke with a husky accent.

            The bandit in front of them produced a shortsword from behind his back," And where would that be friend?"

            "In the Palace dungeon," the farmer held up a circular emblem that caused the bandit leader to blanch slightly," Come along quietly and no one has to die today."

            "But me thinks they do!" a heavily accented voice came from behind the outcropping.

            A wartok, as huge and terrifying as any of its kind, stepped from the same cover the bandit had used. Its armor was scratched, dented and generally badly maintained, but the battleaxe it wielded looked very well tended. The dark farmer calmly looked the wartok over before pursing his lips as he found the beast wanting. The wartok snorted and several grull sprang from hiding around the husband and wife. The bandit leader looked decidedly uncertain as neither the man or his wife seemed at all afraid of the forces arrayed against them.

            "Smash them!" the wartok roared, brandishing his axe.

            "Time for killing, Crayla?" the man asked, almost jovially.

            "You know it, Ramn," the wife answered in the same tone.

            Ramn uncovered the mithril scimitar and shield the pair had secreted along the cart's side. He heard the snap of a bowstring behind him and knew his partner was putting her newly acquired Bow Of Light to good use. The four grull were charging at Ramn with iron clubs held high. Ramn shook his head and took three long steps forward. The warrior calmly assessed his opponents as they raced towards him. Subtle shifting of his feet preceded the movement of the scimitar to a relaxed position at Ramn's left side. The heavy blade tip rested just above the ground and wavered not in the slightest.

            The first reached him and was dead from a nearly severed head before its weapon moved a centimeter. Ramn turned with the force of his upward slash and slit open the belly of the grull on his right. The scimitar reversed direction faster than the eye could follow to dance along the bulbous throat of the grull on his left. Blood splashed from the grull's gashed throat and made the ground slick as it began its death throes. His mithril shield blocked a blow from an iron mace. Shield edges made good blunt weapons the and the grull was unconscious before it could utter a single squeal. Ramn smiled slightly and stood to his full height. The human bandit paled even more and turned to run. His wartok partner was too busy frothing at the mouth to notice.

            "Crayla! Switch!"

            The pair twisted around each other until they were once again back-to-back. Ramn saw that Crayla had only injured the humans enough to prevent them from running. Both men lay groaning on the ground with shafts through their legs. His partner had also taken out a pair of grull before they could take cover. The remaining two sprang from cover just as Ramn got into position. Ramn casually dodged the wild swing of an iron mace and slashed the back of the grull's neck. He crouched slightly to block a blow with his shield and then sprang forward to shieldbash the grull in the face. The cowardly creature scampered backwards on its ass before scrambling to its feet to run. Ramn had no compunction about neatly slicing its head in two.

            "Ramn!"

            Ramn turned quickly at Crayla's excited cry and ran back to her side. Ramn reached her just as the wartok came within range. Several shafts protruded from the beast's armor but none had managed to penetrate deep enough to do much damage. Ramn went left and Crayla went right. The small, incredibly tough woman had grabbed her mithril longsword and shield from the compartment in the side of the handcart.  They could handle a lone wartok by themselves.

            The wartok took a might swing at Ramn and he barely managed to skip backwards out of range. Crayla darted in and ducked beneath the whistling axehead as the wartok spun like a whirlwind. The small woman gave a piercing battlecry as she drove a foot of her longsword into the wartok's chest. Sparks flew as the steel gave way to the stronger mithril with a ear-rending shriek. A huge roar rolled from the wartok's mouth, along with a geyser of blood, as it backhanded Crayla away. Ramn's partner flew through the air and smashed into the rock-face on their left. A growl escaped Ramn's throat as he leapt onto the monster's back.

            "Die!" he screamed and drew his scimitar across the thick neck.

            The blade cut deep and blood gushed forth to cover the warrior's arm. Ramn stood on the creature's back, kicked off, flipped once and landed to watch the wartok stumble forward clutching futilely at its throat. The triumphant warrior waited for the wartok to fall on its face before checking on his partner. Ramn was shaping a rune of healing even before he reached Crayla's side. His potential for learning magic was small but he had coaxed the Jade Sorceress into teaching him a few healing spells for a hefty fee. Ramn knelt beside his friend and pushed the magic into her. She coughed and grimaced as the magic healed her wounds. The mithril scale they wore under their clothes had protected her well.

            "Today was a good day to be us," she said with a laugh as Ramn helped her up.

            "


	3. Ravenshold

            Snow and ice definitely did not agree with Ramn at all.

            Sergeant Ramn of the HomeGuard stood beside his partner, Sergeant Crayla, as a huge burly man in animal furs examined them. The two were part of a row that had been assembled for the NorthMen's Chief, Ranwulf, to inspect the fitness of Surdana's warriors. They were apart pair of Surdanan regulars, foot soldiers bearing odd-looking pikes, standing to the right in scale-mail polished to a bright shine. Ramn shivered just thinking about how cold they had to be. To the duo's left were two knights in glowing, enchanted plate armor armed with mithril longswords and battle-shields. Separated from the others by a meter was a slender young man in ornate leather armor with a mithril shortsword and steel shield. He was the dragon-rider that Lady Rynn had appeared with a few days ago. His Bonded was smaller than the more experience Arokh and the color of a clear sky. The dragon, Mhokra, was standing in the "square" of the Fortress-Town of Ravenshold closely watching his newly Bonded.

            Captain Miles had personally selected Ramn and Crayla for this duty. Ramn stood shivering in borrowed furs over his more customary mithril scale-mail beneath. Standing in the newly fallen, ankle-deep… snow was what they had called it, which was slowly seeping through his well-worn boots wasn't helping any. Crayla was dressed in the same attire and didn't seem affected in the slightest. The small woman never talked much about her past but Ramn thought she came from lands at least as cold as these. The Captain had told them they were the best team in the HomeGuard and that they would do Surdana proud. Ramn had choked back a scoff and saluted his commander. The Sergeant doubted that Chief Ranwulf was very impressed with the polished look of the Surdanan forces arrayed before him.

            Lady Myschala, Ramn was no longer dazzled by her mere presence, stood to one side with a full squad of her personal guard. She was covered in glossy black furs that fit her regal presence perfectly. There was a look of mild annoyance on her face as the Chieftain walked the length of the row once more.

            "Is this truly necessary, Lord Ranwulf?" Lady Myschala asked, rubbing her arms beneath the furs.

            "If we are to be true allies I need to see how strong your fighters are," Ranwulf stopped in front of one of the foot soldiers," They don't look very strong to me."

            Lady Myschala's chest puffed out slightly," These are the finest examples each of their respective forces could muster. You know the fighting prowess of The Dragon-Rider and she says that young Cadwell here shows excellent progress."

            Ranwulf growled as he walked over to peer disdainfully down at Crayla. The Homeguard Sergeant kept her eyes forward and shifted not a centimeter. Then the Chieftain moved to peer at the nearest knight before stomping over to a line of men opposite the Surdanan's. They were all big, strapping young men with lethal looking axes clutched in their meaty fists.

            "These are the newest warriors come to Ravenshold and they have yet to prove their mettle. _You_ will be their test and they will be yours. It-"

            Ranwulf was cut off by the low bellow of a horn from the massive gates behind them that led to the DragonsGate. An answering horn called from the gates to their left. A scout, his fur and armor covered in blood, ran through the open gate behind them and collapsed at Ranwulf's feet.

            " Yeti… dozens of them," he managed to get out before slipping into unconsciousness.

            "Lon!" Ranwulf barked and one of the young warriors hustled to his side," Take him to his bunk, give him a healing potion, and get to your post! "

            A scout came running from the gates leading to the trading post and shouted," Grull… wartoks… blackwings… an army!"

            Ravenhold's defenders boiled from their sleeping quarters as the horns sounded again. All were armed to the teeth with a variety of axes and bows. One of them had an enormous great-axe that made Bruly's look like a child's toy. The veteran warriors ran to their posts without a glance in Ranwulf's direction. Ramn watched it all with calm eyes as Lady Myschala's guard herded her back towards the DragonsGate.

            " Defend Ravenshold! Follow Chief Ranwulf's orders!" she shouted as the gates closed.

            Ramn made sure his scimitar, of the enchanted flame variety, was loose in its bindings as the Surdanan's gathered around the NorthMen's leaders. He was reassured to see that all of the soldiers watched the chieftain with focused intensity and not fear.  The young, unblooded NorthMen warriors all quivered with excited energy as the horn calls boomed louder and louder.

            " Dragon-rider!" the warchief shouted thunderously as though the young man wasn't a half meter away, " Get that great beast of yours into the air and see what comes!"

            Without a word or a backward glance Cadwell ran back toward his Bonded. Ramn kept his eyes forward and only knew the dragon was aloft by the sudden draft of wind on his back.

            "You, you, and you," Ranwulf pointed at Crayla, one of the knights and a foot soldier," Follow those four to their post," four of the burly NorthMen were gestured to," You other three follow the rest. _This_ will be your test. I hope you survive it."

            The Chieftain ran back to his lodge with a hearty laugh.

            Ramn frowned as the others raced to their assigned posts. He turned to his partner, the woman he had fought and almost died for, and actually thought of ignoring the Chieftain's orders. The two had not been easily separated since their first brutal battle and had fought virtually side-by-side for two years.

            Crayla slapped him on the shoulder," I'll be fine. Go and show these NorthMen how a real fighter does it."

            "Aye, sergeant," he said with a grin, tousling her boyishly short hair.

            Crayla laughed, hefted her Fire Bow, and ran to her position. Ramn turned and raced passed the NorthMen's barracks to his own post. The gates were three stories tall and seemingly as solid as its builders. Ramn climbed the ladder to the second story and then another to the archers balcony. A long line of NorthMen manned the slots and looked out in stunned silence at what lay before them. Ramn grabbed a spare bow and quiver from a rack on the wall and managed to find some space to gaze at his approaching foe.

            The large, frost-covered trees swayed crazily as a horde swept towards the Fortress-City. Ramn could see grulls with a bluish tint to their skin racing next to just about every type of wartok the sergeant had ever fought. Those were not the most discouraging of foes they faced this day. Mammoth blackwings, heavens only knew where they had come from, soared through the air above the approaching horde. Massive, lumbering shapes made their inexorable way through the trees cradling enormous battering rams. Ramn had heard of these great brutes from Rynn but they were supposed to be rare. He could see at least four of them charging towards Ravenshold.

            "Ay, Sven! I didn't know you invited your wife!" a gruff voice called from somewhere down the line.

            "Curse you, Raynard! That big one right there looks just like your mother-in-law!" the answer came back.

            "Damn! I think you're right!" a warrior, Raynard the sergeant presumed, leaned over the parapet and shouted," _Hey!! You ugly harpy! Go kiss a grull's ass!_"

            "_Cover!_"

            Ramn instinctively ducked beneath the parapet without looking for what had precipitated the warning. Seconds later a thunderous crash reverberated through the guard post and a thick stream of snow burst over Ramn's head.

            "Those bastards are throwing snowballs!" someone shouted in a Surdanan accent.

            "Loose for your lives, you miserable whoresons!"

            Ramn stood, drew an arrow, pulled the feathered shaft to his ear, sighted on the chest of a charging wartok, and loosed. The wartok fell to the ground with the shaft buried halfway through his collarbone. He looked at the longbow in surprise. Surdanan longbows were never that great at penetrating wartok armor at range. Ramn shrugged and drew another arrow. This one found its home in the face of a particularly ugly grull. A grull peered up at Ramn and raised a gnarled hand. The pulsating blue glow began to build around its raised palm.

            "Down!" Ramn shouted, ducking back behind cover.

            Shards of ice embedded themselves in the parapet above Ramn with almost hypnotice thudding sounds. Ramn stood and shot the little bastard through the eye. It was then that he realized how close the enemy was to the gates.

            "Oil!"

            Ramn sighted and loosed until his quiver was empty. He noticed that many others had done the same. There were still a disheartening number of enemies.

            "Out of the way!" a rough voice roared just before Ramn was shouldered out of the way.

            Three of the larger NorthMen carefully carried a cauldron of boiling oil over to an archer's slot and poured its contents into a wide funnel at the base of the parapet. Large holes, only a story above the ground, suddenly spouted a deadly spray of oil around the gates. Grull and wartok alike screamed horribly as they were covered in the scalding liquid. The warriors along the battlements cheered together, but their cries were silenced as one of the huge, grull-like creatures threw its battering ram like a massive spear. When the battering ram met the gates there was a mighty cracking sound that Ramn could feel in his teeth. The wood beneath them seemed to groan in pain.

            "Down!" someone to his left roared and Ramn again found himself ducking for cover.

            The thudding sounds of ice shards burying themselves in the wood came fast and furious. There was another thunderous crack as a second javelin-ram crashed into the gates. Ramn knew the gates, no matter how sturdy they were supposed to be, could take very many more hits like that. Someone had to do something about those bloody giants. Just then a huge shadow passed over the battlements. A bass roar rolled over the battlefield as Mhokra soared overhead. There was a strange buzzing sound that was followed by an eeiry silence. Then a sound unlike any Ramn had ever heard washed over them. It felt as though his eardrums were about to burst from some unseen pressure. He could feel something pushing at him from the other side of the parapet. Small fissures opened in the wood around him as whatever magic the dragon had cast took effect.

            Ramn took a cautious look over the field of battle and his eyes widened in astonishment. All five of the giants had been reduced to meaty chunks scattered all over the battlefield. Entire areas of the forest had been cleared as though a mighty god had flattened them with his palm. Unfortunately one of the magical blasts had been too close to the already fragile gates. It looked as though a huge gap had been opened up beneath them. At least fifty grull and wartoks were flooding through the breach.

            "Now it comes down to the axe!" someone shouted excitedly.

            Ramn watched as the NorthMen donned gloves on one hand and someone unshipped ropes attached to stands that extended into the open air of Ravenshold. There were six stands in all and the NorthMen stepped onto the stands, gripped the ropes, and leapt off into space. The six slid down the ropes with frightening speed, landed at almost the same instance, and charged at the enemy with feverish bellows. Within a half minute the archer's balcony was empty of all but Surdanan's. Ramn looked at the other two from his crouched position and shrugged. The HomeGuard sergeant found a dirty rag and wrapped it around his shieldhand. He drew his scimitar, grabbed a rope, and walked out onto a stand. With a nod to his fellow Surdanan's he stepped off the edge.

            Ramn kept his eyes on where he would land as the battle raged beneath him. The rope swayed violently from his momentum but he held on. NorthMen and beast-men fought in dozens of small battles inside of Ravenshold. The NorthMen never fought in more than groups of three and that could be dangerous when fighting wartoks. He watched as a lone NorthMen felled a wartok with a single blow of his fist and smiled slightly.

            _I can't be right all the time,_ he thought as his feet touched the ground and he was immediately attacked.

            A grull-mage held up its arm and fired ice shards at the newly landed soldier. Ramn raised his shield and dived forward. Several shards ricocheted off the shield but most of them passed harmlessly overhead. Ramn rolled to his feet and took the arm of the offending grull off in one blindingly fast arc. The grull-mage clutched it spurting stump and howled in agony. Ramn mercilessly slashed its throat before moving on. Three grull came at him together, howling for his blood, and Ramn was all too happy to meet them. Casually blocking a bone-shattering mace strike with his shield, Ramn kicked the grull before him in the chin, and slashed the one on the right across the face before it could raise its weapon. The flaming scimitar scored its way across the face of the grull on the left while the beast was still recovering from the kick. Ramn spun away from another mace swing and defeated the last grull with a two-handed blow that nearly cleaved the bastard's head in two.

            An ear-splitting roar made Ramn turn and instinctively raise his shield. That action saved him from the killing edge of a wartok's blow but the force of it took him off his feet. His heart was in his throat but Ramn faced it with the calm of someone with countless battles behind him. Ramn rolled with the blow and got to his feet quickly. The wartok charged at him and brought its arm back for another powerful strike. Ramn dived forward, tucking just as the axe came slamming to the ground behind him, and rolled between the wartok's legs. Ramn uncurled just as the wartok spun around to lash out with his axe. The sergeant sprang over the sweeping strike, spun in the air like a dancer, and his scimitar's flames roared as they passed through flesh. Ramn emotionlessly watched as the wartok's head rose into the air on a fountain of blood.

            Ramn's furs were ripped and beginning to slow his movements so he tore them off as he landed. His well-polished mithril scale-mail shone even in the heavily overcast light. The crossed shield and scimitar on his back were apart of the symbols that told the world at large he was of the HomeGuard. It had taken many trials for him to earn the markings on his chest mail that told something of his military career. Ramn watched in stunned shock as several groups of grull and a few wartoks stopped to stare at him before charging like berserkers. The HomeGuard had been gaining in strength and reputation but such a reaction was very unexpected.

            Without warning the foot soldier that had been assigned to Ramn's station leapt into the midst of a charging group of grull. The Army regular's odd-looking spear whirled around him in a deadly pattern that left carnage in its wake. The man twirled his own body in a dance of death that was beautiful to behold. A battle-cry on his right made Ramn glance there to see the knight attacking several grull and a wartok. The man fought with a brutal yet terrifyingly efficient style.

            Ramn turned and saw that the last group, several grull and a pair of wartoks, were nearly on him. One of the grull began to raise a hand towards him but Ramn quickly drew his own run in the air. With a hoarse cry, Ramn cast his fireball at the group charging at him. The fireball detonated in their midst, covering them all in flames, and only the wartok's remained standing. Ramn charged the two wartok's, who were stumbling around bellowing in mixed rage and pain, and slashed the first across the throat as he passed. The last wartok saw him and swung a burning fist in Ramn's direction when the soldier got within range. Ramn leaned back and sliced the offending grull's hand off at the wrist. Before the wartok had made a sound Ramn had sliced its hamstring. The beast went down with an almost pathetic wail. Ramn held his scimitar in a two-handed grip and brought it down in a swift, precise motion. He kicked the wartok's head away from its quivering body as he turned to find another foe.

            A tiny smile formed on his lips as he saw that there were only a handful of grull and wartoks left. Those few were quickly being dispatched by groups of NorthMen. The smile was short-lived as a thunderous crash drew Ramn's attention to the gates that Crayla had been assigned to. Ramn turned and watched in horror as the entire archer's balcony disappeared in an expanding cloud of ice and snow. Figures leapt onto the descending ropes or climbed down the ladders on either side of the balcony.

            "Crayla!" he shouted and raced towards the gate.

            NorthMen, clutching a wide assortment of longbow, stumbled out of the cloud as he raced to find his partner. The foot soldier and the Surdanan knight were among those coughing their way to the center of the courtyard. Ramn's heart fluttered erratically as he sought sight of Crayla. He grabbed the foot soldier by the collar and pulled him close.

            "Where's Crayla!?" Ramn yelled, their faces only centimeters apart.

            "I don't know!" the foot soldier wrenched Ramn's hand away but not before the HomeGuard sergeant saw the fear in his eyes.

            "_Crayla!_" he roared again, as the cloud covered both front gates.

            "Ramn!" Ramn never thought he would enjoy hearing someone call his name as much as he did at that moment.

            Crayla's wiry figure, clutching her Fire Bow, jogged quickly out of the icy cloud. Ramn clapped her on the shoulder heartily as soon as she stopped in front of him. She elbowed him in the side as a NorthMen shoved a metallic longbow and a quiver full of glittering arrows into his hands. Ramn raised an eyebrow at Crayla.

            "You'll need them," she said, the smile fading from her face to be replaced by apprehension.

            Ramn grinned," Time for killin'?"

            Crayla's grinned but before she could reply the sound of the gate being wrenched in its tracks brought everyone's attention in that direction.

            "Form ranks!" one of the foot soldiers shouted," The shorter of us on one knee in a staggered line in front of the taller among us! The rear line will form up staggered five meters behind!"

            "Do it, you miserable dogs!" Chief Ranwulf barked as he strode forward garbed in menacing looking plate armor, wolfhead helm, a great axe that crackled with mystical energy, and a huge, humming, metal longbow.

            The NorthMen quickly followed their leaders orders as several bestial roars sounded from the gates.

            "Quickly!" the Surdanan regular bellowed.

            "I want to be behind you," Ramn said, grabbing Crayla's arm and dragging her into position.

            "Oh, I'd like that," he thought he heard her mumble but he couldn't be sure over the pounding emanating from the gates.

            "What did you say!?" he asked, glancing back at her as he moved across the line of the hastily assembled NorthMen, but he only got a big grin in reply. Ramn found a good position for them near the edges of the staggered line," I've got your back! "

            Crayla gave him an almost shy smile," I know."

            Ramn nodded and backed into his position. The bow was surprisingly light and so were the arrows. The arrowheads were large, barbed, and fairly sparkled despite the thick clouds overhead. Ramn looked up just as the first, fat flakes fell.

            _Wonderful_, he thought, just as the gate exploded into the interior of the Fortress-City.

            Towering shapes barreled through the icy cloud with bestial roars of fury. They looked the size of the giant grull-beasts but these monsters were covered in almost fluffy looking fur. Ramn got impressions of huge claws, lots of teeth, and very nasty dispositions before Chief Ranwulf bellowed for them to fire.

            Ramn loosed his arrow and hoped that the bloody dragon-rider returned soon.


	4. Recruits

The hot sun beat down mercilessly upon the three rows of exhausted young men and women. The group squatted in the center of a large yard in the midst of the HomeGuards base, recruitment, and primary training center. The huge building, almost as large as Lady Myschala's palace had been nearly five years ago, had three courtyards in total. A huge marshalling yard in the main building was for the rare large-scale deployment of HomeGuard forces and two smaller training yards in the annex buildings to the east and west. The main building was only one story taller, at three stories, than it's two adjacent buildings but each was a sprawling compound in it's own right. There was even a landing tower in the rear of the main building for the occasional visiting dragon-rider. Each of the recruits had been in awe of this building that was talked about in wondrous whispers in every village and settlement in the kingdom that was now being called New Surdana. None of them were concerned with that at this point.  
  
The HomeGuard Sergeant that had taken the recruits through the torturous obstacle course they called the Grinder, stood at stiff attention as a man in a shining golden and silver uniform slowly walked up to the group. The man's bearing spoke of command and a supreme confidence won on countless battlefields fought within the confines of New Surdana itself. The recruits whispered among themselves before a glance from the sergeant brought a profound hush upon them all.  
  
" That will be all, sergeant. " the man said, his voice soft and charismatic.  
  
The sergeant saluted smartly," Aye, captain. "  
  
The captain turned his hard, dark brown eyes across the ranks of sweaty young men and women in loose-fitting brown pants and shirts.  
  
" I am Captain Miles. I command this regiment. You are those that have made it through the physical trials. You should be proud. Usually there are only half this number left after receiving the tender ministrations of sergeant Rollins," several of the recruits actually managed half-hearted chuckles," Now comes the part where you learn what exactly it means to become a member of the HomeGuard. You will meet those who's turn it is to teach this class of recruits as they tell you just what you're getting into. If you graduate and become HomeGuard then we will meet again. Now turn around and say hello to your instructors. You are very lucky to have these two. "  
  
The group shifted to face the opposite direction as instructed and thus they didn't see the captain walk away with a peculiar little smile on his face. The recruits now found themselves facing a rather odd pair. There was a tall, dark-skinned man with a shaven head standing next to a short, very pale woman with scraggly blonde hair. The man's eyes were far colder than the captain's had been but his expression was as neutral as a slab of stone. The woman's eyes fairly sparkled and she bit her lip, for all the world like a little girl, as she watched the captain walk away. Several recruits cringed at the huge scar that skated down over the woman's left eye. The eye seemed fine but the wound that had caused the scar had to have been horrific. The man and woman were dressed in identical attire. Leather vests that revealed chiseled arms and fair amounts of muscled torso on both. The man had a scimitar sheathed at his waist while the woman had a longsword strapped across her back. Slowly the realization of who these two were dawned on the group as one. The hushed silence that followed spoke volumes of the awe the group felt.  
  
" I don't know why the captain decided to introduce us, but that doesn't mean that you pups are special," the woman began, placing her arms behind her back and pacing in front of the group," I'm lieutenant Crayla. That is lieutenant Ramn. Some of you may have heard of us. Some of you may have had the displeasure of having to see us. Get this straight, pups, we are NOT what you think we are. We are not the Queen's glorified messengers, we are not her enforcers, and we are most certainly not a trophy fighting team. Ramn and I were there when the HomeGuard wasn't the Homeguard. We helped it become what it is today. Which means we are the most qualified to tell you what it will mean if you become a HomeGuard. So listen up and listen good. "  
  
" The HomeGuard was formed to protect the environs of New Surdana. This means that we are responsible for the protection of all territory within New Surdana's borders. These borders are expanding fast, sometimes faster than we have settlers, and thus the HomeGuard is very, very, very busy. The New Surdanan Army is only responsible for keeping large threats from penetrating into Surdana, as well as taking back the land which was once ours, and thus they are absolutely no help in protecting Surdana from threats that they left behind. We are the first and last line of defense for New Surdana. We are elite soldiers of the Queen and only the best are admitted into our ranks. "  
  
" Being a member of the HomeGuard surpasses all bonds of blood and friendship from before you joined the Guard. If, and I do mean if, you survive the training, you will be assigned as a temporary third person to the primary operating unit of the Guard. The unit is a two-man, or woman, team which is sent out on a variety of assignment types. After that you will rarely see your loved ones. I have not seen nor talked to my family in over a year. Ramn's family lives much, much closer to our base of operations and yet he sees his family as much as I see mine. If you are married, have kids, then maybe this profession is not for you. Your wife, you'll see her maybe twice a year if you're lucky, and your kids will grow up in the time that your gone. I have seen the strain this life puts on relationships and it can warp even the strongest bonds. There is a price to be paid for all your thoughts of glory and adventure. The price will be high until you pay the final price. "  
  
" Your training will last approximately half a year. We will work you until you can't move and then we'll work you some more. Pain will be your constant companion. Pain will greet you when you wake and lay down with you when you sleep. The only way to bring relief will be to finish or to leave. Make no mistake about it, as you become more fit, so will what is expected of you become more strenuous. Physical pain and fatigue will not be all you have to contend with. We will test your mind and spirit to the same, if not a greater extent, so that you will feel as though your brains have been shaken in a barrel. I fully expect not even a third of you to complete the training judging by the look of you. "  
  
Lieutenant Crayla stopped and stood with her arms crossed beneath her breasts facing the group," So, before the pain begins, tell me who's going to be smart and leave now? "  
  
A long time passed and still no one spoke. A small smile caressed the hard-woman's face for the briefest of moments.  
  
" So, before we begin, any questions? "  
  
A long-legged boy with unruly brown hair and mischievous light brown eyes raised his hand, Crayla nodded, and he spoke," Does the big one talk or does he just smash things? "  
  
Several of the recruits chuckled and many of them had open grins on their face.  
  
A fierce, toothy grin blossomed on the pale-skinned warriors face," Come here. "  
  
The smug expression on the boy's face evaporated as he stood. He was tall, slim and walked with a cocky stride that made the lieutenant grit her teeth. The boy stopped in a half meter in front of her and looked down with a slight smirk. The smirk disappeared and was replaced by a puzzled frown. Crayla did not see the small smile and shake of the head of her partner that caused the recruit's puzzlement. Without taking her eyes off the boy's, the lieutenant drove the stiffened knuckles of her right hand into his midriff, and spun around him as he doubled over. A swift kick to the back of knee took the smart-mouth off his feet and right into Crayla's waiting arms. The lieutenant got the boys head and neck in a nice comfortable chokehold, comfortable for her at least, and dragged him around to face the other recruits. She was greeted by silence as she squatted over his lower back, arms in painful positions tied up behind his head as they were, and grinned at the gathered recruits.  
  
" I told you that we are not what we think you are. I do not tolerate smart-asses, clowns, or genuine headcases. I mostly break things, things that bleed and then die most of the time, while he does the talking. My partner could talk the hairs off a grull's chin if he so desired. If any, and I mean any, of you so disrespect him in my presence again, I will break you. "  
  
Crayla released her hold on the boy and watched as he scrambled forward on his hands and knees. He turned around on his knees and watched her as he massaged his throat.  
  
" Get back in formation, boy. " Crayla ordered him, her eyes boring into his back as he rushed to do so.  
  
Meanwhile Ramn had begun passing out small books to each of the recruits.  
  
" You will be required to read one section of this book everyday. Lieutenant Ramn will test you on your knowledge each day. "  
  
The wisecracking recruit raised his arm again," There is no author, lieutenant. Who wrote this book? "  
  
" You learn fast, recruit. BladeMaster was written by many people, including dragon-rider Rynn, Chief Ranwulf of the Northmen... and lieutenant Ramn," Crayla shook her head and barked laughter," Don't look so surprised, Ramn is probably the best person any of you will ever have the pleasure of seeing wield a scimitar. "  
  
Low, mournful horns suddenly spread their music through the halls of the HomeGuard's headquarters.  
  
" It looks like you all will get your chance," Crayla said, quietly," It does look like it's time for killin'. "  
  
All the recruits nearly jumped out of their seats when a bass bellow erupted from the lips of the silent lieutenant," Up! Arm yourselves!! "  
  
Then the race was for the racks of iron training weapons on the edges of the yard began.


	5. Blooding

Mikhael Grunner was panting with mixed fear and exertion as he reached the weapon rack. The horns' calls began coming faster and more frantically to his ears.  
  
Why, now!? Why? Why? WHY?! his thoughts kept going in frantic circles as he tore a longsword from its place with what was nearly a strangled sob.  
  
All around him the other young men and women did the same while the two lieutenants stood patiently behind them. Mikhael quickly strapped an iron round shield to his arm, hoping that the lessons his uncle Jerren had given him would be of some help, and turned back to Ramn and Crayla. Both of them stood with their backs to the recruits and seemed to be scanning the skys. Mikhael followed their gaze and swallowed down a suddenly parched throat. Tiny black shapes were flying in a loose formation from the west. Mikhael had seen such shapes before but only from a long, long way away. These blackwings looked as thought they were coming right for the keep.  
  
" Inside!! Quickly!! " lieutenantRamn bellowed, waving his scimitar in the direction of the closest entrance to the interior of the fortress.  
  
This time Mikhael was in the back of the stampede along the wall of the yard and it saved his life.  
  
There was a sound, as thought he were in the clouds when thunder rolled across them, and a fiery red light that seared through his eyelids. Then Mikhael was rolling bonelessly across the marshalling yard, his sword still clutched tightly in his hand, and stopped against something very wet. A ringing in his ears made hearing anything difficult and his blurry eyes only complicated matters. The young recruit was on his hands and kness over whatever had stopped him when his vision began to clear and he saw what had stopped him.  
  
The blank eyes of one of the young female recruits stared up at him. He looked down at where he had felt the wetness... and found his guts heaving at the sight before him. There was nothing of the girl from the waist down except blood and gray guts.  
  
Mikhael scampered backwards on his ass, the ringing in his ears muting his own hoarse screams, and was stopped by a heavy boot to his back. The frightened boy turned with a shrill shout and was hauled to his feet by the tall, grim-looking lieutenant. Ramn pulled Mikhael close and glared into his eyes for a moment.  
  
" Death comes for us all, boy. Get in formation," he said, quietly, and shoved Mikhael to the side.  
  
A small hand stopped him and guided him over to where the other survivors stood in quivering shock almost in the center of the yard. Mikhael turned and saw what had almost killed him. A huge hole had been opened in the ground right in front of the entrance to the yard.  
  
" We should go back the other way," someone whispered in a shaky voice.  
  
" Look, you fool! " someone hissed, their voice quaking with fear or anger, Mikhael couldn't tell.  
  
Mikhael turned and his face blanched in shock as his hopes for life were crushed by the sight. It looked as though holes had been blown open in the ground at every wall of the yard. There was no place to go.  
  
They were all going to die.  
  
" Stay together!! Fight together!! All of you with bows, kneel in the front rank, and fire until they are within four meters. Then withdraw and shoot very carefully. Get ready!! " lieutenant Crayla roared while her tall partner waved his arms around in what Mikhael assumed were limbering exercises.  
  
Shoot at who?! he wondered and seconds later a bestial roar seemed to echo all around them.  
  
Squat, heavy shapes pulled themselves out of the holes in front of Mikhael. A thick-shouldered boy knelt down in front of Mikhael, his arms quivering in fear, and he shakily aimed at the figures. From the stories his Pa had told him these ugly bastards had to be grull. They were armed with nasty looking maces and spiked clubs. From what Mikhael could see they were dressed in filthy rags that he could smell from a dozen meters away. Crayla punched Ramn lightly on the shoulder and was touched in kind before she trotted to the opposite side of the small cluster of recruits. Mikhael looked around frantically and tried to count the number of grull that were arrayed against them. There looked like there were at least two dozen all around them. Cold sweat seeemed to burst from every pore on Mikhael's body as the grull let loose a mass bellow and charged them.  
  
" Loose!! " both lieutenants bellowed and Mikhael jumped despite himself.  
  
The booming cries of the horns were drowned out beneath the grunts and shrill bellows of the grull. The snap of bowstrings could barely be heard as the grull raced towards them. Mikhael winced as the archer in front fired wildly and his arrow flew over the heads of the grull. The boy fumbled an iron-tipped arrow from his quiver... and dropped it. Mikhael let out a curse he had heard from a wagoneer once and snatched the bow and quiver from the fool's hands. Without thinking he snatched the arrow from the ground, drew the fletchings to his cheek, and loosed in what was nearly a smooth motion. The iron arrowhead took a grull high in the shoulder and the ugly brute fell to the ground writhing in agony. Mikhael was able to loose only two more arrows, one completely missing, and the other only grazing the jowls of a grull, before they were within a few meters. Mikhael's accuracy was not that good and he tossed the bow and quiver back to the shaking boy. Mikhael drew his longsword, wiped his trembling lower lip on his sleeve, and waited for the enemy.  
  
Suddenly lieutenant Ramn gestured too quickly for the eye to follow and flicked his hand outward. A searing ball of orange-red fire sailed through the air and hit a grull in the lead directly in the face. There was an earth-shaking explosion and the ball of fire expanded to at least three meters. Grull body parts were thrown in all directions while those on the outer edges of the ball of fire scattered as their bodies caught fire. When the ball of fire faded there were only five or so grull left. Mikhael felt confident at their chances now.  
  
The lead grull charged headlong at lieutenant Ramn and the lieutenant merely cocked his head to the side as the grull wildly swung his mace. In a whirlwind of movement, the lieutenant parried the mace, spun to the left, and sliced open the grull's skull with a stomach-turning slicing-crunching sound. Lieutenant Ramn kept moving, leaving behind the twitching body of the grull, and his sword whistled through the air like some farmer's scythe. Mikhael had never seen anything like it and even hearing the stories was nothing like seeing it in the flesh. The HomeGuard lieutenant seemed more than human as he obliterated the small group of grull within seconds.  
  
Lieutenant Ramn turned and immediately sprinted through the loosely gathered group of recruits. Mikhael turned and watched as Ramn slashed open the belly of one of the last remaining grull on lieutenant Crayla's side. Lieutenenat Crayla planted a boot on the gut of a twitching grull and pulled her longsword's blade from the beasts throat in a spray of blood.  
  
" HUMANS!! " a deep-throated roar came from behind Mikhael.  
  
The young man turned, his stomach rumbling queasily, and almost threw up at the sight before him. Half a dozen of what could only be wartoks, wearing patched chainmail armor, and wielding huge battle-axes, were charging at them with maddened roars. Lieutenant Ramn once again took up position to their left.  
  
" LOOSE!! " the lieutenants roared again and this time the boy in front of Mikhael wasn't shaking nearly as badly.  
  
Mikhael watched as two of the wartoks dropped but the others kept coming despite an arrow protruding from their punctured chainmail. This time the lieutenant raced to meet the wartoks head on. With a bestial roar, the wartok swept his huge axe in a blow meant to take the smaller humans legs away. Mikhael's jaw dropped when the lieutenant actually leaped over the blow, twisting and turning over the wartoks head, and his scimitar carved a shining path through the air as it lashed out. When the lieutenant landed the wartok slumped forward and lay lifeless on the ground. There was no time for the lieutenant to revel in his victory as he barely dodged a downward chop that would almost certainly have cut him nearly in two. Blood gushed from the deep wound in the wartok's side that lieutenant Ramn had cut before he moved on. The wartok clutched a hand to his side, slumped to the ground, and looked as though he were struggling to draw in breath. The next wartok stopped before the lieutenant, what Mikhael thought might be fear was etched all over it's ugly face, and raised his axe high overhead. A flash of light was the only warning that the lieutenant had moved until lieutenant Ramn raced forward and took back the scimitar that had embedded itself into the wartok's huge throat. The final wartok was handled with an almost casual reverse-handed slash that opened his throat up in a bloody mess.  
  
" I see your skills have grown," a voice, sounding fresh from the grave, seemed to come from all around them.  
  
" Minmon!! " Mikhael could her lieutenant Crayla roar," Come out and you will see just how much we've improved!! "  
  
The voice chuckled," I think not, fair Crayla, but I will send my servants to you. "  
  
A scream on Mikhael's left made him jump away and focus on where it came from. One of the young women, a handsome girl with dark brown hair, was frantically trying to get away from something that had her foot trapped. Mikhael's eyes widened in disbelief as he got a good look at what held her.  
  
It looked like the skeletal hand of a long-dead man had broken through the ground beneath her feet.  
  
The girl kicked the hand away and sprinted towards the "safety" that the lieutenants offered. Mikhael was backing away with the other recruits when he felt a tug on his leg. He let out a hoarse cry of fear as he fell to the ground and another bony hand clenched his hair.  
  
" Somebody help me!! " he roared, but it looked as though no one had heard him.  
  
Suddenly someone broke the hold of the skeletal hands and whatever was clutching his hair. Lieutenant Crayla helped him to his feet and clapped him hard on the back before she went charging off with a wild battlecry. Mikhael looked around and found that they were surrounded by...  
  
The urge to scream and run and scream threatened to bubble up within Mikhael at the sight of... it couldn't BE!!  
  
Skeletons were walking, running, and fighting all across the yard. They moved in a jerky, yet fluid way that looked entirely unnatural. They were armed with short-hafted rusty axes that looked as though they would fall apart at any moment. Mikhael stumbled over something and looked down in horror to see the body of the trembling archer that had found some courage at the end. The crumbled remains of a skeleton lay at his feet where the boy had met his end from an axeblow to the back of the head. Anger, hot and urgent, surged within Mikhael and he let out a bellow that surprised even him with it's intensity.  
  
The young man lashed out with his longsword at the skeletons that seemed to emerge from everywhere. Mikhael sidestepped to the right and swept his longsword to the left. The skeleton's jaw dropped in what Mikhael hoped was a scream as the blade decapitated it. Mikhael's world became nothing so much as screaming and swinging his longsword with frantic desperation. Time seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. Every slash, every desperate dodge, even near miss, even bone-shattering blow, all seemed to take an eternity while they passed in an instant.  
  
It was thus that Mikhael found himself standing over the shattered remnants of a skeleton. The point of his longsword was firmly planted through the top of the skull of the reanimated skeleton. The young man turned, wincing in pain as blood seeped through his shirt, and stared in dismay across the battlefield. Bodies lay everywhere, grull, wartok, pieces of the living skeletons, and humans. Only a half dozen or so remained standing and most of them looked as though they would soon join those on the ground. Lieutenants Ramn and Crayla stood proudly before an emaciated looking man in sandy brown robes who held a staff with a crimson jewel atop it.  
  
" I will return with an army the likes of which you have never seen. I will see you DIE!! "  
  
The man raised his staff high and a blinding white light burst from the jewel. Mikhael covered his eyes and when the light faded he saw that he man was gone. A mighty roar rolled over the keep and Mikhael's heart soared as he looked up to see a Dragon of the Order flying circles around the blackwings.  
  
" I love it when they say that," he heard lieutenant Crayla mutter as she and her partner began seeing to the injured recruits.  
  
It was then that the day's events caught up with young Mikhael and he succumbed to his exhaustion.


	6. The Fall Of Minmon

It was the time of day the village children practically lived for. It was that time of day that adults called twilight, but the children called Tale-Time. During this time of day they would all gather in the village circle, where a large fire-pit was lit just before twilight, and wait for the village's Mystic to arrive. The Mystic was an old man of indiscriminate age who had many responsibilities in the village. He taught the children their figures and letters, was the village physician, chronicler of events, and also the Saga-Keeper. All villages in the Kingdom of Surdana and its fiefdoms had Mystics, the larger towns and cities sometimes held as many as a half dozen. All were trained in the Surdanan Academy of Science and Mysticism and, for this reason if none other, the village Mystic was revered almost as though he were one of the heroes he so often told tales of.

So tonight, as they had so many nights for as long as they could remember, the children of the village gathered around the tall, ancient, powerful man they gazed upon with the light of hero-worship blazing in their eyes. The Mystic sat on his customary padded cushion; his legs crossed, and placed his hands on his knees.

"So what Saga shall I speak of tonight, children?" when he spoke it was in a voice, deep and gravelly, but rich with the gruff kindness that had endeared three generations to him.

"The Fall of Minmon!" a girl, no more than seven years of age, practically screamed.

A chorus of voices, both boy and girl, loudly echoed the sentiment.

The Mystic smiled, his teeth shining brightly in his dark face, for this was one of the Saga's that both genders could agree on.

"Have you children yet tired of hearing of that tale?" he asked and was answered by vehement head-shaking," Very well then. "

The flames behind the Mystic seemed to grow of their own accord, the children just having become old enough to hear the Saga's gasped in shock, and shapes began to writhe unseen within the fire.

"Far to the west, in the proud, mountainous heart of the Kingdom, seven years after the resurrection of the Dragon-Mother of the Order, the armies of the powerful Necromancer Minmon made war upon the growing Kingdom of Surdana. He halted the grand army of Surdana, a mighty feat so do not think little of those brave soldiers, and would have pushed into the hard-won frontier if not for the HomeGuard. You all know of those fierce defenders of the peace of the Kingdom, second only to the Dragon-Riders in skill, courage, and honor. In that time there were none greater than Ramn and Crayla, called the Shields Of Surdana as the Dragon-Rider Rynn was called the Spear. But Minmon, ohhh, he had a far darker name for them, one which I will not utter for fear of cursing your souls. "

As the Mystic spoke the children's eyes grew wide, new and older children alike, as scenes seemed to come to life in the flames behind their Sage-Keeper. They could see the harsh looking mountains and their people. The bestial shapes of the armies of Minmon, the defeated forces of Surdana and then a pair of figures of majestic stature took shape before them. One figure was tall, clutching a scimitar in hand, and the shorter one held a beautifully glittering bow in both hands.

"Our Saga begins in a village, not unlike this one in the war-torn frontier, one year after the war began. A powerful Sorceror of the HomeGuard was traveling with his apprentice and came upon a most terrible sight…"

* * *

Mikhael Grunner swallowed the bile down in his throat and opened his eyes to gaze upon the horrible scene splayed out before him. He and his master, the Sorceror Torin, had been making a tour of the frontier to scout for possible locations for a new HomeGuard Magus Tower and Keep to be built. They had only left Fort Dehrimon that morning in the direction of a site that some of scouts there had said might be suitable. Only a few hours later both master and apprentice had felt powerful spells being cast in the direction of a small village both had visited during their initial training in the HomeGuard. There had been no discussion necessary that they would investigate the disturbance. They had both been unprepared for the sight that greeted them.

The village was one of the tiny sorts that dotted the countryside. A dozen or so like minded families that preferred the isolation of a tightly knit community. Each had a large homestead built around a village circle with their fields and flocks a few kilometers from their homes. Mikhael and Torin had seen the smoke from the top of a kill nearly a full kilometer away. They had raced towards the place then, half a dozen spells being ready on the run, but it had all been in vain.

None of the houses stood, either collapsed or burned to the ground, but the truly horrible thing was what was in the center of the village. The bodies of the villagers, women and children included, had been piled high in the village circle. Someone truly evil being had decided to set fire to the pile and from the positions of several bodies they had been alive _prior_ to burning. Two years ago, before he had first met his training Lieutenants, Mikhael probably would have fainted. Now he just had to fight a subtly rising urge to vomit.

"Mikhael!" his master's urgent plea from the other side of the pile galvanized the apprentice to motion.

Mikhael was brought up short by his master's side. The two were as different as a sparrow and a bluejay. Mikhael's brown hair light brown eyes were as common as green leaves while Torin's unusually vivid blue-green eyes and bright reddish hair made him stand out everywhere. Mikhael was taller and stood with a proud, erect posture while Torin usually was more furtive. But at this moment they looked as alike as twins in their horror and astonishment.

A figure lay slumped lifelessly against the rubble of what would have been the village chieftain's home. Blood covered the man, thick and congealed, and dampened the shine of his mithril scale-mail. Blood, more blood than could have possibly come from a single individual, made the ground around him a swampy mess. The half-helm on his head had been cracked open and the rent was smeared in what was possibly his own blood. Several arrows, magic war arrows by their fletching, protruded from his torso. The man still clutched his weapon, a scimitar with peculiarly glowing runes on its surface, in one red-caked hand. Finally, the most horrific thing of all was the reason the man had remained against the rubble. The shaft of a spear, only half of it, protruded from his belly just below his heart. Glowing runes covered the shaft of the spear and that was why it had pierced his scale-mail armor so completely. It was unlikely that anyone had been able to remove the spear because it had penetrated so deeply into the rubble. The foul perpetrators of the slaughter would have had to shift half this side of the collapsed structure to safely remove it. The risk of discovery had been too great. That fact had done little to save the life of the man though.

"I-I…," Torin struggled to choke back his emotions," I never thought I would live to see this day. He saved me you know, back when I could barely conjure a fireball, and introduced me to the Jade Sorceress. "

Mikhael letting tears fall unheeded, knelt beside the body of Lieutenant Ramn of the HomeGuard, and bowed his head to weep for a great man.

"Cray…-la," Mikhael's head shot up at the whisper from the corpse.

"He's alive," Master Torin shouted far too loudly for what was still an unsecured battlefield but Mikhael was as joy-filled as his master to say anything," Quickly! Get a greater healing potion down his throat! Don't try to take out the shaft yet. It's probably what kept him alive this long. And make sure to cast a deep sleep spell to keep him unconscious while we work _before_ you use the healing potion. I need to reconfigure my spells for healing. Don't forget to set up a warding spell."

Torin quickly settled in a meditative position, hovering a meter in the air of course, as he mentally prepared himself for the task ahead. Mikhael made a face at his master, who often forgot important details in his haste, and dug in his pack beside the now unconscious Ramn. He quickly mentally discarded his battle-spells and sketched a quick rune of deep sleep to cast over Ramn. Then he fed the deceptively tiny bottle of pinkish solution to him. The effects were immediate as the gash along his skull healed and his rapidly knitting flesh forced the arrowheads out. There was no sign that the spear had budged an inch though. After that Mikhael walked the perimeter of the town, a Wall of Warding being erected with each step, until he had walked it twice. A double line of defense, for physical threats and magical, was always the best option even if it did cost much in mana. He was very advanced for an apprentice in the defensive castings.

"I'm ready now," Torin said, his feet settling to the ground once more.

"What am I to do, master?" Mikhael asked eagerly.

"Watch. Listen. Memorize. Be ready with a greater mana potion if I have need. I'll be testing you later on the procedure."

"What are you going to do?" Mikhael asked as Torin studied the plight of Ramn once more.

"This is a delicate procedure and will require simultaneously casting of several spells. First I will cast a Hasting spell upon myself and a Slowing spell upon the Lieutenant. Then I will cast a regeneration spell, the most powerful I can, onto his body. He would bleed out quickly otherwise, that is one of the enchantments I read on the spear, and we can't allow that. Then I will levitate this entire section of rubble above the circle in order to isolate the spearhead. Next I will push the shaft the rest of the way through his body, casting a high-level healing spell each step of the way, and hopefully, if I'm fast enough, it will be enough. " Torin cocked his head to the side," You might want to haste yourself so you can keep up. "

Those were the last words that were spoken for quite some time as blinding flashes of light filled the village circle.

* * *

The growing warmth of a new day dawning; the soft whisper of a cool breeze, the smell of meat cooking on an open fire; these were things Ramn had never though he would experience again when the spear had taken him in the stomach. But, unless this was some trick of the afterlife, he was alive.

Alive.

Ramn cautiously opened his eyes and squinted against the bright glare of the sun. He groaned slightly and two blurry faces were hovering over him in an instant.

"At last," a vaguely familiar voice was heavy with relief," How do you feel, Lieutenant?"

After a moment to take stock of his body's status, Ramn answered, in a strong, clear voice that surprised everyone," Surprisingly well."

Ramn fully opened his eyes and sat up from the pallet he had been laid upon. His armor had been removed so little except a thin travel blanket and his underclothes covered him. The blanket had fallen from his chest and he looked down at his bare torso. What should have been a life-ending wound was little more than a puckered scar a quarter the size that it should have been. It contrasted nicely with the half dozen other scars that adorned his chest and abdomen. He looked into the faces of his rescuers and recognition came to him.

"Thank you, Mikhael, Torin. Where's Crayla?"

Neither of them would meet his expression and his gaze instantly went to the diminished pile of bodies. Tears sprang uncontrolled to his eyes but a burning rage quickly seared them away.

"It was Lord Verihn. We were on our way to assess how many armsmen we could draw from his estates. We stopped here, like we always do along this route, and we were attacked just before dawn. They were all human. His armsmen and his hedge-witch. She got a powerful magical artifact that she used to cancel my magic. There must have been fifty of them. The villagers never had a chance. Crayla went down swinging her longsword with a smile. She was smiling at me when the spear took me. Where is that damned thing?" Ramn asked hatefully, fingering his stomach.

"Here," Torin said, passing the weapon to Ramn," It bears a powerful enchantment and it bears the mark of-"

"Minmon," Ramn whispered, his fist clenched upon the haft of the spear.

"You should know, Ramn, that we couldn't find Crayla's body. We did a scrying and we saw that they had taken her," Mikhael spoke up boldly, seeing that his master was proving incapable.

Hope flared in Ramns heart,"Where?"

"To Lord Verihn's main estate, two days walk from here. They are not going very quickly but we have no hope of overtaking them."

"What about the army? Haven't you sent a message to Fort Dehrimon?"

The two Sorcerors looked at each other before Torin spoke," Minmon's Third Legion has besieged the Fort. They want us both back there in order to break the siege. They said they need the resources of magic more than one HomeGuard Lieutenant."

Ramn sighed," They are right. "

Ramn stood and began walking, shakily at first, back to the chieftain's former home.

"What are you doing?" Mikhael asked as he and his master followed Ramn.

"I'm going to get Crayla," he told them, pausing at an unremarkable spot several meters behind the rubble.

Ramn bent down, traced a rune, and thrust his hand into the earth before him. A stairwell was revealed and without hesitation Ramn scrambled down them.

"I never knew this place had a depot!" Mikhael exclaimed, while Torin shrugged.

"They probably just put it in," his master explained as they followed the indomitable HomeGuard Lieutenant.

Supply depots, for each of the divisions of the military forces of Surdana, were scattered throughout the countryside. Some were in villages, some in remote locations, but all were protected by magical sigils that only a select those at or above a certain rank could access. This was one of the smaller ones; the kind favored by the HomeGuard and Knights of the Order, and held the highest quality arms and armor. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairwell Ramn was already armored in muted gray chainmail threaded for stealth. The tall man, the livid scar from his head wound glistening slightly in the magical light from the ceiling, hustled around the room preparing for a journey as he talked.

"You two should hurry back to the fort. They'll need you. I'll go to Crayla. Leave the villagers. We'll come back for the bodies later."

Ramn strapped a spare mithril scimitar, not enchanted like his primary one, to his left thigh. A bandoleer of throwing knives, sheathed in gray-black, went around his chest. A large travel satchel was stuffed with greater healing and mana potions. Two cases of javelins, six to a case, were strapped to the back of the satchel. A mithril greatsword, not a weapon Ramn was known to have prowess with was also strapped to his back. An invincibility potion as well as several invisibility potions was placed in pouches around his waist.

"We can't let you take on an entire force of armsmen by yourself, Ramn. It's suicide," Mikhael said, his face creased with worry for someone he had looked up to almost from the first. 

"At least give us enough time to set up a few spells you can trigger with a word to aid you," Torin pleaded, his face as worried as his apprentices.

Ramn turned to them, fire burning in his eyes, and said," You have an hour. "

* * *

An hour later Ramn was standing in front of the two Sorcerors restraining the urge to bolt in the direction of his partner. He was fully armed and armored now. His primary scimitar was strapped to his right thigh now, he had the enchanted spear clutched in his right hand, and a small mithril buckler was strapped to his right forearm. They had already told him the words to activate the spells they were placing on various parts of his chainmail. Apparently the fledgling Academy of Sciences and Mysticism was already advancing the limits of magic because he had thought it impossible to place more than one enchantment on any one object. Finally, after far too long, they stepped back with sweat glistening on their brows.

"That's it then," Torin said, "Remember not to use more than two spells together. Your mail might melt."

"I'll remember. Thank you both."

"Good luck, Ramn," Mikhael said, holding out his hand, which the heroic warrior took in a firm grip.

"In five days Crayla and I will help you break that siege. That's a promise."

"We'll be waiting," Torin called towards Ramn's back as the HomeGuard Lieutenant raced to his partner.

* * *

The Saga-Keeper growled deep in his throat, making the children sit up and pay even more attention," And so it was that Ramn raced towards his beloved partner in all things, though such thoughts were not in his mind, yet. No, now his blood boiled with fury, his heart yearned for vengeance! He found the trail of the betrayers quite easily. His blades drank much blood during his run to Crayla but with each death his lust for the blood of the enemy only grew stronger. You see, children, during this time Ramn was known as much for being a peacemaker and ambassador of the Queen than for being a warrior of terrifying skill. Crayla was considered to be the one to be feared of this duo and they were content to let the world believe it were so. Only a trusted few knew the truth about Ramn. That he was the greatest BladeMaster in the known lands. No one, not Ranwulf the Conqueror, nor the Spear of Surdana, could come close to Ramn in martial skill. It was said that any bladed weapon ever created he could master in a matter of days and to behold him in proper battle was to believe it to be true. Soon, very soon, his enemies would know that they had roused a beast unlike any that had ever plagued their darkest of nightmares."

* * *

This first to die was going to be the hedge-witch.

Ramn crouched low beneath a patch of hide-bush at the top of a hill that overlooked Verihn's estate. It was a small affair, for it would take years for any so-called 'noble' of Surdana to build truly impressive dwellings, composed of only two aboveground levels and one underground. A Mage Tower, only half-complete, sat a hundred meters or so to the north of the building. That would be Ramn's first destination. Then it would be on to the barracks where the rest of the bastard's armsmen waited for their deaths. Ramn glanced down at the body of the sentry that had been posted here and absent-mindedly wrenched a throwing knife from her throat. Her fellow sentries, posted in similar positions, had met similar fates. Ramn knew he would not have long before someone discovered the bodies.

Stealth maneuvering was something that had come only recently to the training of HomeGuard but Ramn and his partner had long ago learned the value of moving undetected. With little conscious thought Ramn skulked his way to the base of the tower. It, like the majority of towers and tower ruins he'd seen, was cylindrical and would probably have a conical top with elaborate friezes painted on. The only entrance was a wide door made of hardy wood.

_Well,_ Ramn thought as he looked up, _the only ground-level entrance._

Ramn downed the first of his invisibility potions and began an arduous climb nearly thirty feet straight up. With his normal gear he would have been able to do it within a minute but with the extra weight he was carrying him it took him nearly the four-minute duration of the invisibility potion. When he entered the small window, just barely easing his greatsword through, he was pleased to discover it was a kitchen. He settled into a hiding place in the shadowed rafters just above the doorway, not before snagging a few choice morsels, as his invisibility potion wore out. Then he settled down to eat and wait.

It was nearly dark before he tired of waiting, for Ramn had heard the witch grumbling in her workrooms for some time, and tossed a chicken bone into a stand of silverware. His scimitars were eased from their bindings just as the shadowed form of the surprisingly young woman entered the room with the telltale orange glow of a fireball illuminating her left hand. Ramn shook his head at the thought that someone so stupid as to use a fireball in such an enclosed space had assisted in nearly killing him. Ramn silently stepped off the rafters and his scimitars were whistling through the air before he landed. The woman was wearing no form of armor and had cast no spells to give her some protection from steel. Ramn's scimitars first parted the silk robes at the juncture of shoulder and neck. Then the skin, then the bone, blood spurted from her severed veins, and before she had time to scream her head was struck from her shoulders. The progress of the scimitars was not done however for Ramn, with a strength buried too long within him, wiped the scimitars down and around. Ribs parted with sickening crunching sounds, blood splattered all over the front of Ramn's mail, but the vengeful warrior did not care. Finally the scimitars were out and the hedge-witches upper body fell apart like a carved melon.

There could be no time in gloating because Ramn had already wasted too much time in killing the pathetic woman. He went into her small laboratory, filled with distillers and other machinery he was clueless as to the function of. Ramn did however no the components to rig a timed firebomb. Once that was done he crept out of the tower and made his way around to the low-slung barracks on the west side of the estate. It looked deceptively like an enormous barn from the outside but a quick glance in showed that there were nearly two hundred armsmen inside. Ramn ducked beneath the window and pondered his options. Fire would be too obvious, there would still be guards patrolling the house that needed to be taken care of, so that left either lightning or earth. His decision made Ramn carefully traced a magic sigil in the air while quietly reciting an ancient, powerful incantation. Once complete Ramn eased the symbol into the wall and a few seconds later the earth beneath him shook very subtly. Another quick glance provided a gruesome, but welcome sight to Ramn's eyes. Thin, spears of earth that had effectively skewered every armsmen in the room now took up every tiny bit of space in the barracks.

A sudden weariness overtook Ramn and he slumped back against the wall bonelessly. That was probably the most powerful spell he had ever attempted and the night was not over yet. He looked up at the moons, staring down uncaringly at their world, and thought that the gods, if they had ever existed, were surely laughing at the miserable antics of man. If that were the case he swore that he would give them a spectacle the like of which they had not witnessed in centuries. Ramn reached into his bag and withdrew a greater mana potion. He grimaced but downed it in one go and waited for the convulsions to take him. They did so, but far less dramatically than even a year ago. The amount of mana the potion was trying to imbue him with was beyond his capacity to handle and so his body dumped it during the convulsive fit. Warriors with little magical potential who drank even a lesser mana potion had been known to die. Once the fit was over he felt soundly thrashed but much more able to continue.

Now it was time for the manor house.

* * *

Crayla was not here.

Ramn kicked the body of the last guard he had killed in this place, the guardian of the keys to the hidden dungeon beneath the lower level, and cursed soundly. The torture rooms had seen little use in the last months judging by the flaky blood covering every surface. Verihn was not here either so where had they gone. He went back to the guard's desk and rifled through the papers. He found what he was looking for almost immediately on a piece of stained parchment. A single name burned into his vision the moment he saw it. 

Minmon.

Verihn had taken Crayla to a place on the border to hand her over to Minmon. The ritual sacrifice was to take place tonight. Ramn knew the clearing well, it was a well of magical power, and he understood why Minmon would want to sacrifice someone with as vital a spirit as Crayla's there. 

Ramn activated the prolonged hasting spell in his armor and ran for all he was worth.

* * *

Ramn crawled on his belly to the top of a small rise to the north of the clearing. He had already killed two sentries but he did not have the luxury of taking the time to properly scout the place out. The shadows of a tall pine concealed him but gave him a clear view of the precisely circular clearing in the thickly forested hills. A pyre had been built in the center of the clearing. Right atop an ancient, stone Casting Circle that was even now slightly glowing with arcane potency. There were a total of thirteen men in the clearing. All of them wore the bulky steel plate armor common to armsmen and were armed with longswords. Standing atop the pyre was the bulky form of Verihn and when he moved to the left Ramn was robbed of breath.

Crayla was tied to a stake that had been driven through the top of stack of wood, her face nearly unrecognizable under purple-black bruises, and looked to only be half-conscious. Verihn said something to his men, who all chuckled, and then he began to grope Crayla's chest. Ramn's partner in all things moaned in pain and the vile man only laughed as he began undoing her leather pants.

Ramn swallowed an invisibility potion, cast a hasting spell on himself, stood clutching six javelins and threw each one with a roar of fury. He cast off his second javelin case and was hurling those six before the other six were halfway to their target. He raced down the slope at breakneck speed, flinging his satchel into the protected crook of a tree, and then charged into the clearing. He had thrown the javelins from an elevated distance of four hundred meters, but with magically enhanced velocity. Ramn was just emerging from the tree line when the first of his javelins sank its head halfway into the back of Verihn's armor. Its remaining brothers found there way into the bastard's back, left arm, and right leg. The other six javelins embedded themselves into the bodies of six of the armsmen. Each penetrated deeply and the man lay on the ground moaning as blood poured from the wound. Verihn's armor was made of a material stronger than steel, probably mithril, thus he only staggered off the platform in front of the pyre before screaming shrilly for a healing potion. The nearest of the armsmen still standing drew his steel blade and charged recklessly at Ramn.

Ramn drew his greatsword on the run, his hasting spell was almost run dry, and easily dodged the man's clumsy slash. The HomeGuard warrior spun in a full circle and whipped the greatsword across and then through the man's middle. Sparks flew from the steel and the armor itself seemed to shriek as loudly as the man when Ramn's weapon passed through it with horrifying ease. Such was the force of the blow that the man's entire body from the waist up landed a meter back from his body. He was still horribly alive and writhed in an ever-growing pool of his own blood. The remaining four armsmen, the fifth was administering a healing potion to the minor injuries of their Lord, were brought up short at the unexpected brutality of their comrades death. Ramn's hasting spell wore off then and he became more easily visible but the sight of him made them back up a few steps from the semi-circle they had surrounded him in.

"But we killed him!"

Ramn bared his teeth in a rictus of hate and charged at the one who had spoken. This one panicked and tried for a sloppy downward chop. Ramn's blade parried it to the left, the man letting his blade slide away before the awesome power of Ramn's weapon, thus the way was clear for Ramn to shear the man's feet off at the ankles. The armsman gave a shrill cry of pain and terror as he was flung off his stumps by the force of the blow. Before he hit the ground Ramn's blade came whistling through the air to take his head in an explosion of gore. Footsteps and panicked breathing coming up behind him caused Ramn to swivel on his right hip and bring his blade up in a graceful arc. The armsman, probably having never faced a skilled swordmen with a greatsword, underestimated the range of the weapon and didn't stop outside its range. A gory furrow was dug up across the man's chest and before he could stumble back the blade came back down and around to cleave half of his head off. Ramn turned to find a third one charging at him screaming and swinging his longsword like a madman. A pattern was discerned before the fool had closed within range and a throwing knife found itself buried to the hilt in the man's open mouth. The armsman dropped his blade and fell to the ground clutching at his mouth as he tried to scream through the blood choking him. Ramn ran up snatched the blade out in a spray of thick blood and left the man where he lay. The bastard deserved to suffer. Ramn turned and an arrow skidded across the back of his chainmail. Another came from his left but was easily dodged. The last armsman was running as fast as his legs could carry him to the opposite side of the clearing. Ramn hurled his already gory throwing knife at the man's retreating back and grinned fiercely when it embedded itself between the man's shoulderblades.

An arrow embedded itself into the chest of his chainmail, the pain a sharp reminder for him that the day was not yet one, and he tried a spell he had found little use for his the last few years. Ramn called Light down from the greater moon to fill the clearing and it did so in an almost eager fashion. The pale bluish light illuminated the positions of all three archers and made them cover their eyes in surprise. When they uncovered them Ramn was among them and hewing with unbridled fury. Once his strokes were through all that were left of the archers were scattered body parts. Ramn hurried back into the clearing and slowed to a stalking stride as Lord Verihn held his longsword, Crayla's longsword, to Crayla's throat while his last remaining guardian stood trembling in front of the platform.

"Kill him!" Verihn shrieked, making the mistake of pointing at Ramn with Crayla's longsword.

Ramn had already had another hasting spell ready and cast it now with an impossibly fast flourish. The world slowed to a crawl, the start of the terrified armsman, the widening of Verihn's eyes as he realized his mistake, all happened with infinite slowness. Ramn drew a throwing knife and plunged it deep into the eye of the arms as he leapt onto the three-meter high platform. His sword came up and down to sever Verihn's swordarm. Ramn gripped the man by the throat and tossed him off the platform before his arm had hit the floor. Then he ran to retrieve his satchel of healing supplies, downed a greater mana potion on the way back, and untied Crayla before the arm finally did hit the platform. The hasting spell ran out and Ramn couldn't hold back his tears any longer. They spilled down his cheeks as he cradled his partner in his arms like a baby. She moaned insensibly and started to struggle.

"Noooo… no more… please," she said in a soft, broken voice, but then," Ramn'll get you… bastards… and… I'll laugh…"

Crayla did start to laugh but it was a pale thing compared to her normal one.

"I'm here, Crayla," Ramn said, laughing and sobbing at the same time," I've got you. I got those bastards."

"I'm dreamin'," Crayla said, she tried to open her eyes, but they were swollen shut.

"Here, drink this, it's a healing potion," Crayla obediently opened her mouth, just the tiniest slit as that also was swollen shut, and Ramn carefully poured a little less than a quarter in her mouth.

Crayla quivered and bucked in his arms like a blackwing as the potion took effect. Soon the swelling and bruises on her face began to fade away. Once her mouth looked almost normal Ramn gave her the rest of the potion. She drank it all and only shook a little as her face returned to normal. But when she opened her eyes Ramn knew she would never be again. Her right eye was gone, only a puckered indentation remained, but her other eye, the one with the scar was just fine. That wonderfully alive blue-green eye met his dark one and sparkled with joy. Then her hand came up to her other eye, where her eye had once been, and she turned away from him.

"You shouldn't have come for me. You should have let me die," she said, her voice low and very despondent.

"You know I'll always come for you. As you would for me. I'll die before I let you die. You know this," Ramn said, shocked and more than a little hurt.

"Look at me. I'll never be as good as I was. I'm hideous. How can you stand to look at me?"

Ramn scratched his head, troubled," What does it matter what you look like?"

Crayla cried and put her arms around his neck," I guess it doesn't."

"You're still the best the HomeGuard has to offer and if they don't agree then the hell with them. We'll strike out on our own. Get a couple of farms or a business and raise families. I'll never abandon you, Crayla. Or did you forget that promise we made each other in that smelly Trog den?"

"Never," she said, hugging him fiercely.

"This is quite touching really but I must interrupt. Some of us have important things to do like invading kingdoms," Minmon's voice sent a shiver of anticipation through Ramn such as he hadn't felt in years.

Ramn eased the hilt of Crayla's longsword into her hand," Stay up here. If you're attacked call for me and I will come. Keep the potions. Take another one in a few moments to get you back up to snuff and then come join me if you're able."

Ramn stood, cast dual protection spells on Crayla, and grinned as he added," Or if I leave you any."

Crayla grinned back," I want the last hit on Minmon."

Ramn nodded as he turned away," Agreed."

The sight that greeted him would have terrified any normal warrior. Minmon stood at the edge of the clearing crackling with eldritch energy with three wartoks on either side of him. They wore the crimson enchanted plate armor of Minmon's personal guard and each hefted huge axes in their hands. Longswords, glittering with innate magic, were sheathed at their waists.

"I am amazed you are still alive. That spear was supposed to kill you and yet here you are _wielding_ it no less."

Ramn said not a word as he hopped down from the platform and advanced with his greatsword at his side.

Minmon looked at the bodies, some still writhing, of Verihn and his men," I must say I never expected anything like this out of you. I always knew you were a fair warrior but this is unbelievable. It seems you haven't lost your skills having become a 'peacemaker'.

Ramn's only reply was to fling a throwing knife into the throat of a wartok that had tensed as if to spring at him.

Minmon's face twisted into a scowl," If you don't have time for civil conversation then I guess we have to get right down to it. So… DIE!"

A thunderous bolt of lightning arced from the crimson jewel atop Minmon's staff. Ramn simply batted it away with the mithril gauntlet of his mail. He had been right to wait for the enhancements to the chainmail.

Minmon's face twisted again, but this time with shock," I'll give my minions a treat then. Ohk! Kill him!"

The largest of the wartok's lunged forward with a mighty roar. Ohk raised his axe high in the air for a strike but his roar turned to a gurgle. Ramn thrust his greatsword into the wartok's body to the hilt and then, with a grimace of effort, lifted the massive monster off its feet with his shoulder. The mithril blade dug into the ground at an angle and Ohk was pinned to the ground like a bug. He squealed in pain and flailed about helplessly as his lifeblood soaked into the ground beneath him. His brothers-in-arms took a step back in shock at the defeat of the best among them.

"All of you! Kill him now!" Minmon roared, his voice booming like that of a god's in the clearing.

The four remaining wartok's rushed Ramn as one force. There was no time to remove the greatsword so Ramn drew his twin scimitars and charged at the two on the left. Neither was prepared for the speed of the vengeful warrior and he was within the range of the closest quickly. Ramn slashed the wartok's leg, causing it to drop to one leg, rolled in the direction of the other wartok, and heard the tell-tale sound of a battleaxe striking a breastplate. The wounded wartok's cries were cut off and the remaining wartok was stumbling backwards in shock. Ramn leapt onto this one's chest, plunging both scimitars into his throat, and forward somersaulted away as two axeheads buried themselves into the space he had just vacated. Ramn turned just as one of them retrieved his axe and came in swinging at Ramn. A scimitar flashed out, severing the axehead from the shaft, and the opposite one was driven deep into the wartok's armpit. The beast turned in pain and thus did not see Ramn snatching the axehead from the air by the shortened handle. He felt it when Ramn chopped through his helmet and left nearly the entire axehead planted there.

Tremendous pain stole Ramn's breath away and his feet left the earth. The last wartok had been silent in his approach and had gotten a blow into Ramn's side. He could feel at least two ribs shattering on impact, blood filling his throat as he sailed through the air, but the pain did not stop him from rolling to his feet and sliding the enchanted spear from it's bindings. The spear, having shrunk to a stabbing weapon during his long run to his Crayla, now elongated back to its original form. Ramn stood calmly in the face of the wartok's charge. Predictably the wartok tried the same wood-chopping motion as before but this time Ramn was ready. He blocked with the haft of the spear, slid down to catch the axehead where the curve of the blade met the wood, and dropped backwards. The pain in his chest tightened horribly as Ramn placed a boot in the stomach of the wartok and propelled the bastard over his head. Ramn rolled to his feet, spun, and plunged the spear into the wartok's face.

A rush of hot air was his only warning and probably saved his eyesight. Ramn threw his hands up in front of his face as a fireball of epic proportions engulfed his entire body. It launched him into the platform, partially collapsing the structure, and making a ruin of Ram's innards. Ramn looked down at his armor and was shocked to see that it had turned to grayish powder. His leg was broken and one arm was crushed under a heavy log. Minmon made his way slowly to Ramn and chuckled evilly.

"So ends the mighty Shields of Surdana."

"It's way past time for killin'," Crayla's voice came from the air besides Minmon's head. 

"Wha-?" he said just as Crayla appeared beside him.

It was far too late for him to prevent her longsword from taking his head.

"Quickly!" Ramn roared, his voice hoarse with pain," Stab him with the spear!"

Crayla did so without question but a flash of light propelled her into Ramn's lap where she lay there babbling nonsensically. Ramn had no time to waste and began to chant the words to a potent spell that he had fashioned himself from ancient lore. Just before the final word was uttered Minmon's voice could be heard shrieking in the wind.

"No!" 

Then Ramn said the final word and light flared along the runes on the spear. Minmon's shrieking grew to unearthly proportions until it faded away entirely along with the light from the haft of the spear.

"What did you just do?" Crayla mumbled.

"I had the spell to destroy his soul, but never the means to trap it in a body. That spear held a spell I altered for that purpose. I couldn't have done it without Minmon though," Ramn chuckled," He was a silly bastard."

Crayla barked laughter," Yeah. What do you want to do now? "

"I think I'll rest awhile."

Then he passed out.

* * *

The Sage-Keeper was silent for a few moments longer as his story ended," Thus passed the Necromancer Minmon, last of the Five Primal Scourges, and bane of all creatures of good. The legend of Ramn and Crayla grew all the more when they returned to drive back the army that Minmon had gathered. But that, children, is another story."

The fire went out and the star clusters that were called the Shields of Surdana glittered brightly as if in appreciation of the tale.


	7. The HighGuard

    The island was a tiny one in the large chain that humans called the Andrellian Isles. Imposing crags that even the hardiest of seaman would blanch at the sight of surrounded its single small beach. So it was with some surprise that the natives, crustaceans and seabirds for the most part, found unfamiliar figures washed up on their beach.

    "Gimme a hand with him, Mikhael," Crayla grunted under the weight of her partner in all things.

    Mikhael nodded breathlessly as he wrapped Ramn's right arm across his shoulders. Together they managed to carry the heavy warrior to the dubious cover of a boulder-strewn ditch. They laid him down on a relatively smooth patch of ground behind one of the more stable looking rocks and promptly collapsed onto their backsides. The sun was in the perfect position to offer them shade from its sweltering heat. Summer was definitely not the best time to get shipwrecked on a rocky little island.

    All three HomeGuard were sorry sights. Mikhael's formerly pristine jade robes and scarlet headband were soiled with blood, soot, and saltwater. Ramn and Crayla's mithril scale-mail were in similar straits with the exception that Ramn's scale-mail had a huge rent in its side where blood was even now oozing.

    "Heal him again," Crayla demanded, glaring at Mikhael and Ramn's wound in turns.

    Mikhael, despite having grown into a sorcerer of formidable might, was still slightly intimidated by the diminutive woman. The crimson HomeGuard standard painted onto her eye-patch made it even worse to stare at her single baleful eye.

    "My magic reserves are almost gone Crayla. I could barely keep us all afloat long enough to find this island. I'm sorry but he'll have to wait until I can recover. I think he can make it that long. "

    Crayla ground a fist into her palm in frustration,"What were those bastards? "

    Mikhael shuddered at the mention of the newest enemy of Surdana. The most shocking and horrifying thing was that they were human. Mikhael, Crayla, Ramn and a full platoon of Surdanan sea-soldiers had been sent to check on the Andrellian outpost. No word had been heard for nearly two weeks and that was troubling because there was apparently no reason for it. Their ship had been attacked as soon as it entered the outermost chain of tiny islands. Great four-masted ships, as large as manor houses, had blocked their paths while single-masted ships had quickly closed within boarding range of theirs. Mikhael had fractured several of their ships into splinters before boarders could disembark but even Master Torin could not have continued without imbibing a greater mana potion. The other ships had not even hesitated in ordering their men onto the deck. At least thirty of the strange warriors had made it onto the Surdanan vessel before Mikhael could destroy the other ships. The deck fight would have been decidedly one-sided if it had not been for Ramn and Crayla. Together they had picked off nearly ten on the boarding planks with javelin and crossbow before melee combat ensued. Seeing them in action together had been as breath taking as ever but it had quickly become apparent that these were not normal warriors the heroes faced. Each moved with the grace and confidence of master swordsman and wielded strange arms and armor. The enemy had only come armed with single, slightly curved blades that had but a single cutting edge much like a scimitar. Those blades had looked fragile at first glance but Mikhael remembered seeing one poor sea-soldier's head being cleanly cut from his body with what seemed the minimalist of efforts. Their armor appeared to be lacquered leather and mail that resisted the strongest of blows. Even the mithril weapons that the sea-soldiers had been granted for the mission had a harder time than usual penetrating. In the end only Ramn, Crayla, Mikhael, and a squad of sea-soldiers had remained.

    Then someone had cried out in alarm and they had all looked up to see a ballista bolt streaking towards them. Ramn had pushed Crayla away and dived himself. Unfortunately he had been a little too slow and the bolt plunged into his side and pinned him to the deck. He had instantly lost consciousness and only Mikhael's healing powers had saved him from quickly bleeding out. Another warning had been called before Mikhael could do more than that and he had put all his magical efforts into a shield for their vessel. Iron catapult shot and ballistae pounded the shield mercilessly for several minutes that seemed to last an eternity for everyone. A cry to abandon ship had bellowed up from deep within Mikhael and then everyone was fleeing over the sides. Mikhael and Crayla had gathered up Ramn and quickly made their own departure, heavy armor and all. Mikhael had kept them together and afloat before he saw rowboats being dropped by men with heavy nets. So he had let them all sink to the bottom after casting a quick spell to allow them to breathe underwater for a time. The currents had carried them away and into the ocean depths. Once Mikhael had deemed enough distance had been gained he had floated them back to the surface and discovered the island only a few hundred yards away. By then his magic had been running low again and he had no way to replenish it because he had lost his pack in the explosion that had destroyed the Surdanan deep water patrol ship.

    So now they were stranded on a tiny, rocky, deserted island with minimal supplies, surrounded by a literal sea of enemies.

    It was definitely not out of the ordinary for members of the HomeGuard.

    "Do you think any of the others made it?" Mikhael asked, his voice full of guilt.

    "Don't blame yourself for the fate of the others," Crayla said, giving him a comradely punch in the arm,"There was little any of us could do at the end. If it hadn't been for your quick thinking we would have been captured or killed. At least now we can call for reinforcements and get those little bastards."

    "Most of them were taller than you, Crayla," Mikhael pointed out, trying to keep a smile off his face.

    "Hey, I'm a woman, and they're supposed to be taller than me. Give me a- sh!"

    Crayla held a hand up for silence and carefully made her way to the top of the ditch on the beach side. Within seconds she was silently scrambling back, Mikhael idly wondered how she did that, and was motioning for Mikhael to help her with Ramn.

    "Company," she whispered,"At least three longboats full of fighters and what looked like one of the four-mast's. We've got to find cover. Hopefully we can go to ground."

    "Where?" he whispered back, hoping he sounded as calmly as she did,"From what I saw the island is not very big and mostly rock. "

    "Rynn once told me that almost all of these islands have surface access points of some kind and that all lead to a series of caverns deep under the sea. If we can get down there we can lose them unless they have scryers."

    "I'd say they do. It's the only way they could have found us," Mikhael said, his voice full of recriminations for his blundering. He had been supposed to be the magical protection for the mission and Mikhael felt he had erred badly.

    "Pick up the pace. I think I see an opening at the end of this ditch."

    The darker pocket of shade was indeed a cave opening and they were just stepping through it when some kind of throwing blade tore into Mikhael's leg. The pain was instant and intense but the sorcerer managed not to cry out.

    "Watch him," Crayla said, her heart sounded like it was breaking as she let Ramn go and turned to face their deaths.

    Crayla was surprised to face only one of the small warriors who raced forward to meet her at a full sprint. His blade was still in its sheath but Crayla had learned from hard experience, the shallow cut on her arm still throbbed incessantly, that the small men could draw their blades with inhuman quickness. Crayla had lost her longsword, the loss hurt her as the weapon had seen her through countless battles, but she still had her mithril round shield and a wickedly curved knife with a forty-centimeter steel blade. She had barely managed to hold her own on the ship thanks to her diminished depth perception and peripheral vision. Crayla knew that without Ramn's presence she didn't stand a chance unless she did something drastic. So she slipped her round shield from her arm and slung it as the warrior closed within five meters. Despite the element of surprise the strange soldier managed to spin out of the way while still maintaining his forward momentum. His blade was halfway out of its sheathe as he completed his spin only to have a small hand lock his arm against his body. Crayla slid her knife under the softer layer of leather near the midriff and carved a bloody furrow right up into his heart. The bastard still fought to draw his blade even as they fell to the ground. Even in his death throes the warrior struggled mightily hard to cleave her head from her shoulders. Finally he died with what she assumed a curse on his lips.

    Something whistled just past Crayla's right ear as she pulled her knife free. Her shield came up and the metallic ping of missiles striking its surface rang in her ear.

    "Hurry, Crayla!" Mikhael shouted from the cave entrance.

    Crayla sprang backwards into a series of backflips before tucking into a ball and rolling the rest of the way into the cave.

    "Back further!" Mikhael shouted urgently and Crayla obediently continued rolling until she collided with Ramn's prone body.

    Mikhael shouted what sounded like a word of power and a thunderous crash echoed through the enclosed space. Voluminous clouds of dust rose into the air and obscured the collapsing form of Mikhael just to Crayla's left. She managed to grab his outstretched hand just before darkness settled in over them all. Crayla knew that somehow Mikhael had found the strength to bring down the roof of the cave and now she desperately prayed to whatever gods were listening that Rynn had not been telling a tall-tale. There was no question that Mikhael and Ramn were alive.

    No question at all.

* * *

    Consciousness slowly returned to Ramn and pain as well but that pain was something he had learned long ago to ignore. He wearily opened his eyes and discovered found that it did little to clear the blackness from his vision. There was some light, but it was weak and a pale bluish in color. Ramn knew that he should have known where the light was coming from but his thoughts were still addled.

    "So between us, if we ration ourselves nearly to death, we have maybe enough food and water to last four days," that voice made the dread that had slowly begun to creep into his heart fade quickly.

    "Yes, but if we can find some source of water down here, I can use my magic to make it fresh. "

    "How many kilometers did you say you thought it was to the next island?"

    Silence fell for a few moments before Mikhael's soft,"Thirty. "

    Ramn could almost see Crayla fingering the flesh just beneath her eye-patch. It was a nervous habit she'd picked up in the years since the injury.

    "Thirty kilometers and we have no idea if this cavern will even take us in that direction let alone how far that tunnel goes down. That's just great!"

    Ramn coughed and grinned,"At least the situation's improved your disposition. "

    Crayla slid to a dusty halt beside him, setting them both to coughing, but neither cared much. The tall, incapacitated warrior and the short, one-eyed she-demon of a fighter both wore the same idiotic grin as they stared at each other. Ramn tried to sit up but the pain that he had been ignoring roared in protest. He flopped back down to the hard soil of the cavern and gasped in pain.

    "Easy, Ramn, Mikhael's still not recovered enough to cast a healing spell on you," Crayla said, gently moping his brow of the sweat that had sprung up there.

    "I should be dead and he can't cast another one on me so soon or I _will_ die from the shock. Reach inside my chainmail, near my heart," Crayla almost eagerly did so,"Feel that pouch, get it, be careful not to burst it."

    Mikhael came over as Crayla opened the pouch to examine the contents. The pouch was full of a pinkish powder that glistened slightly even though it was not the slightest bit damp.

    "What is it?"

    Ramn grinned," Powdered healing potion. The Jade Sorceress gave me that batch just before we left Capital. It's part of her first batch."

    Crayla pursed her lips to spit, remembered their lack of water, and grimaced instead,"How come she didn't give me a pouch?"

    "You hate her remember?" Mikhael reminded the fiery woman.

    "She wears less than a trollop!" Crayla exclaimed, fuming as the men cast amused glances at her.

    Crayla and Jade's, as her friends called the Sorceress, feud had become the stuff of legend among the HomeGuard.

    "Anyway, you can mix a pinch of that with a skin of water, and you've instantly got a lesser healing potion. The more powder you use the more powerful a potion. She hadn't exactly worked out the proportions. The wonder of the powder is you sprinkle it on a wound, or a bandage, to externally heal the wound. So the rest of the body isn't jolted by the magic," Ramn paused to cough painfully for a few moments," Now come on, because those little bastards don't seem like the type to give up and I'd like a bit of a lead. "

    The trio, with a still tender Ramn clinging to Crayla even though Mikhael would have made the better assistant, cautiously made their way into what seemed to be an open area at the end of the steeply downgraded tunnel. Curiously the tunnel floor seemed to be that way because of what appeared to be an ancient stairwell. None of the three were much surprised though for Golden Age ruins were often found in the most improbable of places.

    What they found at the bottom of the stairwell filled them all with a sense of awe.

    The three stood at the beginning of a long promenade that was bathed in the eerie blue-green glow of the phosphorescent algae. Lined up on either wall were statues of fantastical beasts that none of them had ever read about. A long row of rearing felines, each standing four meters tall, stood on raised pedestals to their right. On their left, on their own pedestals, were half as many enormous birds-of-prey that closely resembled falcons with wingspans of nearly ten meters. At the end of the promenade was what looked like a collapsed altar and the reason for that collapse was scattered about the room.

    Two of the cat-like beasts were pinned to the ground with enormous nets while one of the large falcons had been pinned to the ceiling fifteen meters above their heads by sticky gray webbing. A dozen wartoks held the roaring cats down, the remains of several of their unlucky brethren were sticky smears against the wall, and seemed to having a tough time of it. Scuttling along the ceiling towards the bird-of-prey were enormous cave spiders, the kind that were the bane of any cave-crawling adventurer, and the bird glared furiously at them all. Standing above the cats were two human males in the garb of Golden Age sorcerers and below the falcon was a warrior hefting an enormous javelin. Sitting forgotten at the bottom of the destroyed pile of rubble that had once been an altar were three corpses in the ancient Armor Of The Order. Only a handful of complete sets had even been found and here were three nearly arm in arm. Each of the figures clutched weapons in their bare hands but each seemed to be a walking armory armed with everything from a hand-axe to a wizard's staff. Each of the figures had been webbed in place, probably before their deaths, and filled with arrows, javelins, and even what could have been a spider leg. In addition each of their heads were missing. Whoever had wanted them dead had wanted to be absolutely sure they were dead.

    All of this, from the expressions on the wartoks faces, to the growing pools of blood beneath the bodies, was frozen in time.

    Then the eyes of each of the three met the eyes of one of the embattled beasts.

    Hot pain seared in their eyes, to be replaced by a warm tingling in their minds, and visions came to them. With the visions came fragmented memories and knowledge of events centuries ago. The three bodies had been high-ranking members of the Order that the Dark Union had considered especially dangerous. A plan had been devised to rid them of the threat before the betrayal. The three, close friends, had been sent to the tiny Temple Of The High Guard to ostensibly renew their vows to the Order there. A trap had been laid though and before they could react the three Champions were slain. Their bond-mates had been captured for ritual sacrifice to strengthen the foul powers of their betrayers, acolytes who had been passed up for Bonding time and time again. Something had happened though, some Power had frozen the scene in time, and thus they had remained for centuries.

    Then the three members of the HomeGuard had happened upon the scene and they had been recognized.

    Raw, primal energy surged through Ramn, Crayla, and Mikhael. It filled them, every fiber of their being, until they felt both stronger and weaker than they ever had before. An intense itching underneath Crayla's eye-patch made her pull it off. Crayla was blinking to clear her eye before she realized that she had opened her long missing organ and she could see from it. Not only that but her vision was far sharper than it had ever been. Ramn and Mikhael both straightened unconsciously as their injuries closed themselves up as though they had never been. Ramn and Crayla turned to look at each other and gasped at what they saw. Their eyes were completely golden in color. Crayla turned to Mikhael and found that his eyes were the same.

    "Where did you come from?!" a baritone voice roared angrily at them.

    Then the world rushed back to every occupant in the room. The bass roars of the Kath, the felines, and the ear-splitting screech of the Mitok, the falcon, bounced from the walls. The wartoks grunted and roared at their captives, while the spiders continued their inexorable march to the falcon. All three humans had turned to glare at the intruders.

    "I don't care where they came from. Take care of-" the bearded wizard never got a chance to finish his sentence thanks to Crayla's blade being buried in his throat.

    Crayla had never fathomed throwing an unbalanced knife nearly thirty meters, in dim lighting, even though it seemed much brighter now, and actually hitting her target. But at that exact moment she had done it without the slightest hesitation. From her left and right lightning arched towards the other two enemies and burned them to a crisp. The wartoks, stunned by the sudden demise of their leaders, let just a little too much slack into their lines. The Kath leapt up and became twin whirlwinds of bloody vengeance. Mikhael gestured and the webbing holding the Mitok vanished as if it had never been. The Mitok screeched again as it came free but this time fire burst from its mouth and seared the spiders into the walls.

    And as quick as that the ambushers had become the ambushed.

    The Kath slowly, and suspiciously padded up to the three humans, while the Mitok settled onto a perch designed for its kind ten meters on the wall closest to Mikhael. All three knew they should have been afraid for their lives but none of them could move a muscle.

    Finally the Kath came up to them and began to sniff Ramn and Crayla. The smaller one's head came up nearly to Ramn's shoulder and the size of the creature's fangs was intimidating to say the least. Then Crayla's gave an experimental lick that seemed to startle both it and Crayla.

_    I know her!_

    The voice was distinctly female and definitely in their heads.

    "Was I the only one that heard that?" Crayla muttered.

    Both men shook their heads.

_    Go ahead, Tyri, give it a try!_

    The larger of the two, whose head was a few centimeters above Ramn's, growled but gave Ramn a quick lick on the cheek from a surprisingly soft tongue.

_    I know him! You were right, Kylih, but how can this be!?_

    This voice was very deep and very male.

_    You now, Rohk,_ the female voice, Kylih they assumed ordered.

    "Hey!" Mikhael exclaimed as he was levitated up to the fearsome visage of the Mitok.

    It sniffed his hair, rooted around in it for a few seconds, before preening its feathers.

    The third voice spoke in imperious tones, _I can't believe it, but for once the kittens are right!_

_    I hope someone stuffs you one of these days, you old buzzard!_ Kylih mentally barked, as Mikhael's feet once again settled to the ground.

    "Okay, would someone _please_ explain to me just what is going on here?!" Crayla shouted, making the Kath in front of her back up a step at the surprising amount of sound coming from such a small creature.

_    How are we supposed to know!?_ Kylih 'shouted' back into their minds, Crayla especially felt as though she was shaking in her boots. _I made a guess and it looks like I was right. Can you calm down long enough to listen?_

    Another outburst was a split-second away from Crayla's mouth when Ramn laid a calming hand on her shoulder,"Forgive my excitable companion. She still hasn't learned to channel _all_ of her energy. We will gladly listen to your theory."

_    Well, at least one of you can be polite,_ how it was possible to hear a mental sniff of disdain was beyond any of their knowledge,_ Your souls once inhabited the... bodies you see back there. Those souls were once our bond-mates. Some celestial Power, maybe a God, maybe some other force, chose to spare us a dishonorable end at the hands of those betrayers. Here we were frozen in time until you three found us and the Bonds were restored._

    "Bonds? As in The Bond between Dragons of the Order and their riders?" Mikhael asked, disbelief heavy in his voice.

_    Yes, human, _that_ Bond,_ the Mitok, Rohk, answered with a ruffle of its crest.

    "I thought that it could only be formed by Dragons of the Order," Ramn said, stretching his injured side with disbelief on his face.

    The laughter of all three inhuman beings echoed in their heads.

    "What's so funny?" Crayla asked, her brow furrowing with puzzlement.

_    You mean you really don't know about the other non-human members of the Order? The High Guard? The Mariners?_ Tyri asked in disbelief.

    All of the humans shook their heads in the negative.

_    It does appear that we have been frozen for far more than one human generation._ Rohk said introspectively. _My friends I think we have some catching up to do._

* * *

    Nearly thirty of the strange warriors that had destroyed a veteran Naval crew and its ship were industriously working to clear away the cave-in, when to the shock of the officers watching through spyglasses on the three warships surrounding the island, the blocked mouth of the cave was suddenly cleared by a massive explosion. All of the warriors that had been standing directly in front of the debris were obliterated into bloody chunks nearly instantaneously. The warriors standing to the sides were flicked away like dust motes and some rolled so far that they ended up drowning in the ocean. One forward thinking officer had sent an additional thirty warriors to the island to serve as an assault force. But those reinforcements were sent into coughing fits by the immense cloud of dust that was thrown into the air.

    Out of that cloud of dust came four figures. The foremost two were a man and a woman who couldn't have looked anymore different. He was tall, dark-skinned, and possessed a menacing physique. She was short, very pale, and seemed as though a strong breeze would blow her over. They walked with a similarity and synchronicity that was startling though. Each wore ancient plate-and-mail Armor of the Order, with the pale blue and white coloring of the HighGuard, but without the spiky protrusions dragon-riders adorned their armor with. The tall warrior had twin scimitars at his waist, a greatsword on his back, and what looked like a glowing wizards scepter strapped to his left forearm. His companion had an ebony bow with crimson eldritch symbols burned into its surface in one hand, a full quiver against her back, a longsword strapped to her waist, a buckler that throbbed with a strange bluish-gray light at though it were a living extension of her body on her off-arm, and a brace of throwing knives across her chest.

    Behind them came two figures out of nightmare. Enormous felines, one much larger and fiercer looking than the other, girded for war. Plates of a flexible blue-gray metal covered their chest, haunches, forepaws, ribs, and even their heads. When the larger roared it was enough to make the strange warriors forget all about their enflamed lungs.

    With almost exultant howls the warriors charged headlong at the four figures.

    "You have to give it to them," Ramn said, shaking his head slightly,"They have courage."

    "It would be better if they had some sense," Crayla said, drawing an arrow back to her cheek.

    Ramn hadn't even sensed his partner pulling an arrow from her quiver but that was not the end of his surprises. The symbols along her blow flared to fiery life and a tiny maelstrom of crackling red energy gathered at the tip of her arrow. Then, as quick as a breath, it grew tenfold. Crayla loosed the arrow and an unearthly scream split the air. Ramn's eyes were keener than they had ever been so he saw the arrow pass through a layer of the rushing horde to squarely impale the eye of a warrior who could have been an officer. Then the arrow exploded in a spectacular mix of red-gold energy. Bodies were either incinerated or cast flaming into the air. Before a single flaming chunk of corpse could land, Crayla had repeated the process with three more arrows. Ramn whistled as he surveyed her handiwork. Before the enemy had gained fifteen meters Crayla had reduced the force to a handful of crawling, dying fighters.

_    Incoming_, Kylih's mental voice spoke quite unconcernedly.

    Ramn looked up and saw one of the enemy's unnaturally accurate ballista bolts streaking towards him yet again. This time he had warning though and much more power at his command. With a casual wave of his hand the bolt careened end over end back towards the warship.

    "I want to go to the beach, Ramn, you never take me anyplace," Crayla said, with an infectious grin.

    Ramn shook his head, restraining his own grin because that would just encourage her, and began making his way in the direction she had pointed. All along the way he casually deflected ballistae and catapult shot with waves of his hands. Finally they were at the beach and saw their enemies. Three of the single-masted warships were circling the island like carrion birds circling a grull encampment.

_    So what do you two plan on doing about them?_ Tyri asked in his gruff voice.

    Ramn shrugged and as usual Crayla spoke for them,"Let our sorcerer take care of it. "

    Behind them the island peak erupted in molten earth and a ball of fire shot high into the air. It cooled quickly and was revealed to be the mitok, Rohk, with an exhilarated Mikhael snug in a riders pouch on Rohk's back. Rohk flipped in the air and streaked towards the enemy warships that had foolishly gathered within a few kilometers of each other. Mikhael was ejected, both Ramn and Crayla could see it clearly even though he was nearly three kilometers away, and fell for nearly a hundred meters before coming to a gentle stop just out of catapult range. Clouds, angry and dark, suddenly obscured the sinking sun. Lightning flashed, once, twice, and then in an unending barrage that completely enveloped the three ships. Several figures were levitated to Mikhael before an invisible hand smashed each of the vessels to splinters. There was one section of debris that Mikhael also levitated up complete with its own piece of sail.

_    I think they'll do_, Kylih said, purring loudly and rubbing her huge head against Crayla's unarmed thigh.

_    Have a little dignity, Kylih, damnit_, Tyri said,_ But you are right. I think they'll do fine as HighGuard._

_    So what are you human cubs planning to do now?_ Rohk asked, circling high overhead.

    "First we'll question Mikhael's prisoners. Then we'll build a boat and go back to Surdana for debriefing. After that we can propose your suggestion to the Queen." Ramn said, bowing slightly to his Bond-mate.

    Tyri let out an involuntary purr that he quickly stifled but that set Crayla and Kylih to a burst of vocal and mental giggles respectively.

    "There may be a problem with that," Mikhael said, as he levitated himself and the debris to the beach, but there were no prisoners with him.

    "Where are the prisoners?" Ramn asked, frowning at someone he had trouble remembering was technically his superior as magic-users generally outranked any officer below a captain.

    "They killed themselves but not before they gloated that Surdana was already falling," Mikhael answered, looking as though he had swallowed trog-bile.

    Ramn growled and Crayla ground her teeth in frustration.

    "Can you teleport us back, Mikhael?" Ramn asked, but knew the answer even before the sorcerer spoke.

    "Too risky. Together you and I certainly have the power now but with no idea what sort of magic is being worked such a feat might kill us before we even reach the castle."

    "So all we have is the boat and that'll take us at least two days," Crayla said, struggling not to scream at no one in particular.

_    We can get you there,_ Kylih said, her voice smug.

    "You heard what Mikhael said about teleporting and only Rohk has wings," Crayla snapped and immediately stroked Kylih's neck in apology.

_    Don't you humans know anything?_ Tyri asked, derisively, _Get on my back, Ramn._

    "Aren't I a little heavy?" Ramn asked, but got on after one quick glare from Tyri.

    Crayla mounted Kylih without a word.

    The two Kath turned in the direction of Surdana and let out thunderous roars. Kylih and Tyri sprinted at full speed towards that end of the beach. Both Ramn and Crayla tensed in anticipation of hitting the water with the same thought that the Kath couldn't possibly be planning on swimming the entire way. At the waters edge both HighGuard Kath leapt and kept on rising. The Kath didn't fly as so much as run on the air. Each time a paw landed a burst of star-stuff came to life beneath them. Even when they climbed it was as though they were going up a hill. It was not effortless as Rohk's flight but just as exhilarating in its own way.

    Crayla let out a whoop of joy as Rohk screeched at them from two kilometers back.

_    Wait for us you overgrown kittens!

* * *

_

    War had once again come to Surdana and once again all its greatest heroes were gathered to face it. This time they had more than just a lone dragon-rider to call upon. Supreme General Dehrimon, his stern features older but still fearsome, and Queen Myschala were the true powers in the throne room but they were overshadowed by the personalities gathered around the long Council chamber. High Marshal Rynn of the New Order Of The Flame radiated a quiet menace that could quell even the Queen with a single glance. Every now and again a burst of emerald magical power would escape from her jade eyes. General Miles of the HomeGuard sat brooding opposite the High Marshal with a sorrowful look in his dark brown eyes. The Jade Sorceress sat with a serenity that, judging from the thin press of her lips, was entirely feigned. Across from the Jade Sorceress, clad in the furs of his native land, was a Huntmaster of the NorthMen. The bald, tattooed warrior seemed almost eager to spill the blood of fellow human beings. Admiral Gant, his head wrapped in a bloody bandage, sat slumped in his chair.

    "So," the Queen began after far too long in uncomfortable silence. "Would someone care to begin or should I choose someone?"

    Supreme General Dehrimon coughed politely,"The Army can have fifteen hundred or so soldiers on the northern front by tomorrow thanks to the Travel-Nodes. If we cancel our current Expansion campaign and strip the borders down to a bare minimum we can muster an additional three thousand in four days. "

    Myschala nodded," And what of the HomeGuard? "

    General Miles restrained a sigh as he bowed his head to the Queen,"My Queen the HomeGuard is currently engaged in a holding action against this Empire of the Eternal Sun's armed forces. As of this morning our forces numbered approximately one thousand and we are hard-pressed."

    "And what of the Shields?" the Queen asked, her voice steady lest she appear unduly concerned.

    "No word, highness, but I won't count either of them out until I see their corpses at my feet," Miles very nearly growled at his Queen.

    "How many of your fierce countrymen can we count on, Huntmaster?"

    The tattooed warrior bowed his head deeply before speaking,"Five hundred of our fiercest fighters. My Chief would strip our land to come to your aid but we have never been a numerous people and we must be every vigilant against our ancient enemy."

    "I understand, Huntmaster, and any aid is very appreciated," Myschala nodded regally in the northerner's direction before turning to High Marshal Rynn,"What of the Dragon-Riders?"

    High Marshal Rynn did growl before she began to speak,"Arohk and I, Cadwell and Mhokra, and Tal and Norot are the only Dragon-Riders that we can count on. The Dragon-Mother tells us that the others are under attack by the winged great cats the enemy is using. Several have returned to the Spirits."

    The council bowed his or her heads for a moment before resuming the meeting.

    "Admiral?" the Queen asked, her voice sounding more strained than ever.

    Admiral Gant's eyes were tiny points of hard granite,"Your Fleet stands as vigilantly as ever, my liege, but our numbers have been reduced by more than half. If it were not for the enemy's unnatural accurate missiles we could have routed them before they came within ten kilometers of the coast. "

    "I am sure you and your men have done everything in your power to halt the advance of the kingdom's enemy, Admiral," the Queen reassured him diplomatically,"What of the magical missives we sent to the enemy."

    The Jade Sorceress' mouth twisted unattractively,"All were destroyed before passing through a kilometer of enemy controlled land."

    "What of our magical resources?"

    "Of my latest cadre only four of them are ready for active duty. With the loss of Mikhael, who was the most powerful magic-user beside myself not deployed on the Expansion front, we are down to a handful of battle-ready Sorcerers."

    The Queen was silent after that and they all knew what she was thinking. The Kingdom of Surdana's position was still fairly precarious despite the ongoing success of the Expansion campaigns. Almost the entirety of the Army was engaged on their southern and western fronts as mankind pushed back its bestial foes. For defense the kingdom had depended almost solely on the HomeGuard and Dragon-Riders. Dragon-Rider Rynn and HomeGuard lieutenants Ramn and Crayla were as much a deterrent as the mightiest army. Their reputations and deeds had spread even to the ranks of their enemies. Some were even calling them the Spear and Shield of Surdana. Now it seemed as though the Shield had broken and the Spear was being sorely used. The enemy was pushing forward with increasing speed every day, breaking through the natural and man-made barriers to their progress with equal ease, and event the staunch defenders in the HomeGuard's morale was failing after the rumors began that their greatest champions had fallen. By the time General Dehrimon's main forces arrived Myschala feared the enemy would be knocking at her chamber door.

    Just then one of her aides ran up to her Queen, face flush with exertion and her eyes shining with excitement,"Majesty, we have reports of strange creatures flying towards the Dragon's Gate. Dragon-Rider Tal is escorting them in. "

    The Queen stood and relayed the aide's message to her unofficial Council,"I think we should go to meet these strange visitors."

    As one they rose and proceeded through a short series of doorways to the landing platform before the Dragon's Gate. The sun was almost set and the world was bathed in fantastic shades of purples, reds, and gold's that seemed to make the scene before them all the more dramatic. Dragon-Rider Tal, clad in enchanted scale-mail armor, swooped down to land atop his massive ebony partner, Norot. Right behind him, seemingly running on a path of starlight came two felines, whose coloring was downright startling, of immense proportions. Atop their backs were two figures in armor that strongly resembled Armor of the Order. Next, and most impressive of all, came a giant bird-of-prey wreathed in flames. The flames were not devouring the avian but instead seemed to be coming from it. It swept over their heads and a flaming ball of golden fire leapt from its head to land only a few meters in front of the stunned Council. The Queen's personal Guard, chosen from among the best HomeGuard, Army, and NorthMen, moved in to block her view. She could see the flaming bird land squarely in the middle of the arch of the Dragon's Gate though.

    "Damnit, Mikhael, why do you always have to be a showoff?"

    The sound of that voice, always enough to coax a smile on the Queen's face, made her push imperiously through her guards to get a better look at the speaker.

    HomeGuard Lieutenant Crayla stood in front of Mikhael and proceeded to dress him down like a raw recruit. It was good-natured though, effectively just a lot of colorful swearing, and Mikhael had a chagrined smile on his face. Then Crayla cut off in mid-tirade and fixed one of the smaller feline creatures with an indignant glare.

    "I'm not even thirty, Kylih!"

    "Crayla, Ramn, Mikhael! Attention!" General Miles barked, and in the space of a blink the three were lined up in front of the felines at stiff attention.

    "Sorry, sir, we-" Crayla's voice was cut off at the gap-jawed stares everyone was giving her,"What is everyone staring at, Ramn?"

    "I'm just too pretty, I guess."

* * *

    A few hours later Ramn was in his tiny room in the HomeGuard's Bastion. He was shirtless, marveling slightly at how many of his aches and lesser scars had completely disappeared while the major ones had shrunken considerably, and in the process off removing his pants when there was a knock at the side-door connecting Crayla's room to his. He answered and was stunned to see her wearing nothing but a cotton shift. A very thin cotton shift. Ramn had seen Crayla naked more times than he could count, most of those times as he frantically tried to plug a hole in her body, but he had never seen her without a weapon in her hand in the past six years. That, more than her state of undress, made her seem far more vulnerable than Ramn had seen her in a long time.

    "Can I come in?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

    "Do you even have to ask?" Ramn asked, stepping aside.

    Crayla smiled, her face slightly flushed, stepped inside and plopped down on Ramn's immense bed. It always struck her as funny at how bare Ramn's room was. Besides the armoire there was only the bed and a small writing desk. The bed was a massive four-posted thing that took up the most space by far. Worse it was covered in fluffy, floral-print comforters and thick pillows. It wouldn't have looked out of place in some Lady's manor.

    There were a few moments of silence, in which Crayla snatched a few glimpses of Ramn's well-muscled chest, before either of them spoke.

    "So to what do I owe the immense pleasure of your company?" Ramn questioned, his eyebrows raised.

    Crayla took a few deep breaths before hesitantly beginning.

    "I was talking to Kylih and uh, I... uhm, I was... we were..."

    "Yes," Ramn gently prodded and was rocked back when Crayla turned to liquid golden eyes on him.

    Tears began spilling down her cheeks as her words released in a torrent of emotions,"I love you, Ramn, and we might die tomorrow. We're stronger now but we're not immortal. We thought it was important I tell you. I don't know if we'll make it and I didn't want to die without having ever said it. I mean, you've shown it a million times, but sometimes you're just too damn 'sterious because you've never said it. How come you've never tried to make love to me? Everyone knows men are rutting animals but you've never once hinted like you wanted me. You always said I was the prettiest fighter in a thousand leagues and you never even tried to feel me up. Sometimes I just want you to rip my clothes off and-"

    Suddenly Ramn's mouth was on hers and Crayla fairly melted into a puddle of violent, warrior-like, girl-goo. After a few minutes Ramn pulled back breathlessly and began to speak.

    "I love you, Crayla. I love you, I love you, I- " this time it was Crayla who literally pounced atop Ramn and pushed his back down against the bed.

    "Stop wriggling, I still have something to say," he managed to say after another minute of Crayla's very enthusiastic kisses. We're not going to die tomorrow. I guess I never said it because I thought it was understood. You know I've never been one for emotional displays, except that one time, when that happened," Ramn traced the now very faint outline of the scar that remained from Crayla's maiming. " I never tried to ravish you because I worried about you getting pregnant and I knew you'd never stop fighting even when you were big as a dragon!"

    Crayla raised her head from what she had been doing to Ramn's chest and grinned,"There are herbs for that you know and I would to stop fighting. Now take your pants off!"

    Ramn grinned," Seriously, Crayla, we're not going to die tomorrow. Tomorrow will be time- "

    "-for killin'," Crayla finished as she began to undo his pants with the tip of her tongue hanging from the corner of her mouth.

    "Yes, but tonight's time enough-"

    "-for fu-!"

    Whatever she was going to say was forgotten with the strategic placement of four fingers and a thumb. Then there were no more words... or at least words that were fit for decent company.


	8. Epilogue

    The war with the Empire Of The Eternal Sun lasted for nearly three more months. Crayla, Kylih, Ramn, Tyri, Mikhael, and Rohk proved instrumental in holding back the forces long enough for General Dehrimon's main forces to arrive to stem the tide. When it was down the three HomeGuard members asked for permission to go on a long-range expeditionary mission to the Lost Continent where lay the ancestral homeland of the Kath and the Mitok. The Queen granted them this and much more. She asked for any volunteers from all branches of the Surdanan military who would brave the journey and the response was overwhelming. So much so that a tournament had to be held as to who would stay and go. Three Dragon-Riders and their mounts asked to go as well and even the High Marshall herself would have gone if she had not been a member of the newly formed Council. In the end our three heroes and their Bond-Mates set off for the great unknown with a small fleet, three hundred fierce fighters, and three Dragon-Riders under their command. This force, that historians would dub the Alpha Crusade, blazed a course that would forever leave its mark on history.

    But that is another story.


End file.
